i^m 
 
 OR DON 
 
 ,:^v I 1 r^ » 
 
, OF THE 
 UNIVERSITY 
 C. OF ^ 
 
'DEBRETT! CHARLIE, OLD MAN, DON'T YOU KNOW ME?" — See p. 297. 
 
OFF TO KLONDIKE 
 
 A Cowboy's Rush to the Gold Fields 
 
 BY 
 
 GORDON STABLES, M.D., CM. 
 
 (surgeon royal navy) 
 author of "a fight for freedom," "the pearl divers, 
 
 "the cruise OF THE ROVER CARAVAN," "FROM 
 PLOUGHSHAKB TO PULPIT," ETC., ETC. 
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS BY CHARLES WHYMPER 
 
 NEW YORK: 46 East 14th Street 
 
 THOMAS Y. CROWELL & COMPANY 
 
 BOSTON: 100 Purchase Street 
 
Copyright, 1898, 
 By T. Y. CKOWELL & CO. 
 
 Norianolj ^rtes 
 
 J. S. Cusliing & Co. — Berwick & Smith 
 Norwood Mass. U.S.A. 
 
$775' 
 off 
 
 910 fHg Hear Sister 
 MARY 
 
 I DEDICATE THIS BOOK 
 
 WITH FONDEST LOVE AXD THOUGHTS OF 
 
 ' AULD LANG SYNE ' 
 
 THE AUTHOR 
 
 ivi65894.0 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTEU 
 
 I. Abroad on the Moorlands . 
 
 II. A Wild Race — The Cave on the Moor 
 
 III. In Touch with Nature .... 
 
 rV. Laurie and Leebie made Prisoners . 
 
 V. The Haunted House .... 
 
 YI. The Convict's Terrible Story . 
 
 Vn. The Confession 
 
 VIII. To the Land of the West . 
 
 IX. Wilson Webb in Cowboy Land . 
 
 X. A Green Englishman .... 
 
 XI. A Buck-jumping Experience . 
 
 XII. It was a Terrible Fight while it lasted 
 
 XIIL The Great Spring "Round-up" . 
 
 XIV. On the War-path 
 
 XV. The Battle — Lynched at the Stake 
 
 XVI. " Tweed, too, was dead "... 
 
 XVII. Hurrah ! for the Land of Gold 
 
 XVIII. The Voyage of the Hopeful 
 
 XIX. Steaming up the Great Yukon . 
 
 XX. "Jackie has struck the Tay Dirt" . 
 
 XXL "A New Sort of Sauce?— Gold I " . 
 
 V 
 
 PAGE 
 1 
 
 11 
 
 21 
 
 35 
 
 47 
 
 55 
 
 67 
 
 75 
 
 85 
 
 97 
 
 108 
 
 117 
 
 129 
 
 140 
 
 149 
 
 158 
 
 163 
 
 176 
 
 187 
 
 200 
 
 212 
 
vi CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 XXII. A Sportsman's Paradise .... 223 
 
 XXIII. Over the Seas, and over the Land . 230 
 
 XXIV. On the Great Lake-chain .... 244 
 XXV. At Home in Klondyke — A Bear Ad- 
 venture 256 
 
 XXVI. The Day will soon re on the Turn . 268 
 XXVII. Christmas in Klondyke — A Terrible 
 
 Journey 280 
 
 XXVIII. Sickness and Sorrow — The Maniac 
 
 Doctor 290 
 
 XXIX. The Cloud has lifted . . . .300 
 
 XXX. Can this be Death? . . . . • . 307 
 
 XXXI. The Welcome Home 316 
 
OFF TO KLONDYKE; 
 
 OR, 
 
 A COWBOY'S RUSH TO THE GOLD FIELDS 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 ABROAD ON THE MOORLANDS 
 
 " Now stir the fire and close the shutters fast, 
 Let fall the curtains, wheel the sofa round, 
 And while the bubbling and loud hissing urn 
 Throws up a steaming column, and the cups 
 That cheer but not inebriate wait on each, 
 So let us welcome peaceful evening in." — CowrER. 
 
 Many of those bramble berries were already ripe, 
 and rich and black; but some were as red as the 
 cheeks of Leebie Lea, and others as brown as the 
 sunburned face of her little gipsy-looking brother 
 Laurie. 
 
 When I say that, although Leebie was comfortably 
 shod, and wore a neatly be-ribboned straw hat over 
 her long yellow hair, Laurie was barefooted and bare- 
 ankled, it will easily be believed that they did not 
 belong to the aristocracy of this noble land of ours. 
 
 Nor were they what are called " poor children," as 
 will presently be seen. 
 
 B I 
 
2 ABllOAD ON THE MOORLANDS 
 
 The sun had just gone down, and look in whatever 
 direction they might, not a house or hut was to be 
 seen on this vast moorland or plain. To all appear- 
 ance the children were many and many a long mile 
 from home, wherever that might be. This did not 
 seem to trouble them in the least ; for Leebie, as she 
 continued to gather the blackberries, sang sweetly to 
 herself in happy childish treble. 
 
 But Laurie had turned his back to the great bramble 
 bush and his face to the west. That face was beam- 
 ing, and his dark blue eyes were sparkling with a 
 light that seemed lent from the gorgeous sunset sky. 
 Surely there was something of the poet and natural- 
 ist about the lad, for the tears were trembling on his 
 long eyelashes. 
 
 " Oh, Leebie ! " he cried at last, "why don't you look 
 upwards ? " 
 
 The girl paused now, and did glance towards the 
 west, and an exclamation of wonder and admiration 
 escaped her. 
 
 " Oh, Laurie, how pretty ! " she cried. " Who 
 painted that sky, I wonder ! " 
 
 " Why, God, of course, Leebie. Doesn't he paint 
 everything that is beautiful — the wild flowers, the 
 trees, and the red heather, and the wings of that bird 
 yonder that is singing in the thorn ? " 
 
 "Yes," assented Leebie, nodding gravely, " of course 
 it is God, but I was nearly forgetting." 
 
 And here was an autumn sunset such as is seldom 
 seen in this country. High above, the great sky-dome 
 
ABROAD ON THE MOORLANDS 3 
 
 itself was clear and cloudless and of a pale blue colour, 
 with just one strip of shining- crimson. But it was 
 down towards the horizon where the chief beauty lay. 
 For the clouds here were splendidly striated and 
 streaked, the layers deep orange in colour, purple, 
 grey, and vermilion, with betwixt the orange and tlie 
 red, canals of pale green empty sky. Then close to 
 the horizon was a bank of misty grey. 
 
 One glance at tlie children standing there Avith 
 faces upturned and hands shading their eyes from 
 the dazzling, heavenly light, would have told you 
 that while Leebie was reall}^ a beautiful and intelli- 
 gent-looking child of about ten, Laurie, perhaps 
 three years her senior, was a truly manly and hand- 
 some English boy. 
 
 Oh, they are no rarity in this dear country of ours. 
 I could find you many in my own village here, and it 
 is just such boys as Laurie that, when they grow up 
 to be men, fight our battles among the wild and 
 far-off hills of India, or in African jungles, and per- 
 form deeds of valour which make the blood tingle 
 within our veins, as we read of them at our quiet 
 fireside in England. 
 
 But Leebie and Laurie are not the only living 
 creatures in this lonesome, hobgoblin moorland. No, 
 for yonder there comes trotting towards them, on 
 four legs apiece and cheek by jowl, two very interest- 
 ing persons indeed. 
 
 Let me introduce them. 
 
 I. Sir Duncan Currie! 
 
4 AI5110AI) ON THE MOORLANDS 
 
 II. Towsie ! 
 
 While their little master and mistress have been 
 filling that basket with ripe blackberries, the two 
 dogs have been far away across the plains, hunting 
 on their own account. No, not altogetlier on their 
 own account, either, for behold ! To .vsie, an old- 
 fashioned, English sheep-dog is carrying a large, 
 wild rabbit, and Sir Duncan, a daft, wee, wiry, Aber- 
 deen terrier, though he carries no rabbit, looks full of 
 importance. He is trying to tell Laurie that, although 
 he graciously permits Towsie to bear the bunny along, 
 had it not been for him, Laurie would not now be 
 looking forward to so nice a supper. 
 
 Very full, indeed, of self-importance was this same 
 Sir Duncan. Indeed, I always think that the smaller 
 a dog — or a man either — is, the more he tliinks of 
 himself; the more conceited he is. 
 
 At lirst glance nobody could have said that Sir 
 Duncan was a deal to look at. Grey in colour was 
 he, with smartly pricked ears, which gave him the 
 appearance of being always on the qui vive ; a smartly 
 carried tail, which he seemed very proud of, but 
 rather short in legs, in body, and in hair. This last 
 was very close and almost as thick and hard as pin 
 wire. A thunder-shower could not have soaked Sir 
 Duncan to the skin, nor could earth or dust ever 
 penetrate that hirsute mantle of his. Sir Duncan's 
 toilet was exceedingly simple. He just gave himself 
 a shake, or on rare occasions two, and lo ! there he 
 was, ready for anything. Sir Duncan Currie was 
 
SiR DUNCAN CURRIE AND TOWSIE. 
 
ABKOAD ON THE MOUKLANDS 5 
 
 brave to the core. There was nothing he would not 
 have attacked, from a weasel, or polecat, to a wild, 
 horned bull, and when he went on the war-path, he 
 went to Avin. His teeth had all the whiteness of 
 alabaster, but were as strong as Highland dirks. 
 Sharp and quick was Sir Duncan and easy to take 
 offence, but it could not be said that he was bad in 
 temper. He possessed a loving wee heart of his own, 
 and when he looked at his master or mistress it shone 
 out through a pair of the darkest and brownest of 
 eyes" that any one ever beheld. 
 
 I believe, moreover, that he was proud of his con- 
 stant companion, Towsie. 
 
 And this affection Towsie, a bob-tailed, wall-eyed, 
 old-fashioned English sheep-dog, fully reciprocated, 
 though he was older and more sedate than little 
 Currie, as he was usually called for short. As 
 Burns says, — 
 
 " Nae doubt but they were fain o' ither 
 An' unco pack and thick thegither ; 
 Wi' social nose wliiles snuffed and snowkit^ 
 Whiles mice and nioudiewarts they howkit,^ 
 Whiles scoured awa in lang excursion, 
 An' worried ither in diversion." 
 
 Nevertheless Currie possessed a very strong sense 
 of the ridiculous, and there were times when out 
 on the moorland or plains, that all at once, after 
 a glance or two at Towsie, his shape — so different 
 from his own — struck him as so irresistibly comical 
 
 ^ Scented. ^ Dug up. 
 
6 ABROAD ON THE MOORLANDS 
 
 that, with his teeth showing, all agrin with laughing, 
 he was fain to allay his feelings by rushing round 
 and round his companion, in wide and wider circles, 
 till, faiiiy exhausted, he would tumble on the grass. 
 
 " Oh, Towsie, Towsie ! " he seemed to say, " you'll 
 be the death of rae, some day. When I look at you, 
 I feel fit to choke with merriment. Never an ear 
 to be seen ; heather instead of hair ; one brown eye 
 blinking out of your shaggy face, and one the colour 
 of an old china plate, — and oh, Towse, not even the 
 stump of a tail ! How ever your mother let you out 
 like that, /could never tell ! " 
 
 Then, as if afraid he had offended honest Towsie, 
 he would trot up and kiss him. 
 
 " Never mind me, Towsie," he would say, " I must 
 have a bit o' fun sometimes. I'm that way built, 
 you know." 
 
 Well, Sir Duncan Currie could catch every creat- 
 ure of ordinary size that ran. Mice and rats he 
 worried as quickly as one could wink. One bite 
 was enough for a weasel or martin, and two for a 
 polecat. He would drag a badger from his lair, 
 and even fight a fox. But away in the woods, he 
 would sit at the foot of a great oak tree, and bark 
 with vexation, at a squirrel high up among the green 
 swaying boughs quietly eating an acorn ; for climb- 
 ing trees was far beyond even Sir Duncan's power. 
 But often and often he stalked and caught birds 
 on the ground ; and more than once he had come 
 proudly back to his master and laid a plump and 
 
ABROAD ON THE MOOKLANDS 7 
 
 lovely partridge at liis feet. This only in early 
 autumn, for during the nesting season Laurie kept 
 both his dogs close to heel. 
 
 I think that the greatest sorrow in Currie's heart 
 sprang from the fact that he could not catch a species 
 of snipe, common enough near the pools where the 
 wild ducks had their nests. 
 
 For clever and all though he was, this doggie 
 couldn't fly, but he would sit on one end with his 
 black dot of a nose in the air, watching that snipe till 
 it was no longer visible, and wish he only had wings. 
 
 Because this particular species of snipe seemed to 
 call his name. This was only the bird's cry, but it 
 really was very tantalising. 
 
 "Currie, Currie, Currie, Currie!" 
 
 "Oh," Sir Duncan appeared to say, "J would 
 Currie you, if I could only just catch you ! " 
 
 Well, on this particular evening, Towsie laid the 
 rabbit very gently down at his master's feet, and 
 received from both children a deal of praise and 
 cuddling. 
 
 With her arms around the honest dog's neck as 
 she knelt beside him, — bareheaded now, for her hat 
 had fallen off, — Leebie and he made a pretty pict- 
 ure. 
 
 As for Sir Duncan Currie he had quite taken pos- 
 session of his master, and seemed determined that 
 Towsie should not have a single caress. 
 ***** 
 
 But by this time the beauty had begun to fade 
 
8 AP.KOAD ON THE MOORLANDS 
 
 away from the cloudscape ; that strip of cirrhus that 
 erst was so brightly crimson had already changed to 
 bronze, and the bars that lay along the lower part of 
 the sky were now purple and grey. 
 
 Laurie took a piece of twine from his pocket — 
 what country boy ever goes abroad without this — 
 and, tying the rabbit's fore and hind feet together, 
 slung it over his shoulder. 
 
 " Come on, Leebie," he cried. " Why, it will be 
 almost dark before we get home ! " 
 
 "Wowff! wowff! wowff!" barked Sir Duncan, 
 running on excitedly in front, for hunting had made 
 him hungry. But Towsie simply licked his master's 
 hand with his warm tongue. 
 
 "I'll guide you safely home," he seemed to say, 
 " should it be as dark as my coat." 
 
 It was quite half an hour, however, before they 
 got clear of the plain and on to the road. And by 
 this time it was dusk and a star or two were blinking 
 and winking in the east. 
 
 When the road led them into and through a wood 
 of oak trees, to which the brown leaves were still 
 closely clinging, it was so dark that but for a long 
 line of sky above, they could not have been able to 
 see their way at all. 
 
 But Laurie was a cheerful boy, and now his voice 
 was raised in song. 
 
 Only a simple English ditty that his father had 
 taught him, but it sufficed to make the long road 
 appear shorter. 
 
ABROAD OX THE MOORLANDS 9 
 
 In some measure Laurie was like the miller of Dee, 
 for he sang pretty well all day long. 
 
 " There was a jolly miller once 
 Lived on the river Dee ; 
 lie worked and sung from morn till night, 
 No lark more bright than he. 
 
 "And this the burthen of his song 
 Forever used to be, 
 ' I care for nobody, no, not I, 
 If nobody cares for me.' " 
 
 But in the present instance these words would have 
 been far indeed from appropriate. For Laurie had 
 some one to care for him. 
 
 Behold, they are clear of the woods at last, and 
 about a hundred yards farther on, the bright light 
 from a cottage window is streaming across a well- 
 cultivated garden and across the road beyond. 
 
 And the children's mother is leaning over the gate. 
 She has been awaiting their arrival anxiously enough. 
 Both Towsie and Currie sprang forward with a joy- 
 ful bound, and Leebie and Laurie speedily followed 
 their leaders. 
 
 " Come in, my deai-s, come in," said the mother. 
 " You must both be cold and hungry, and your father 
 and I were getting quite nervous about you." 
 
 " No need, mother, no need. We've had such a 
 splendid time of it. And look at the beautiful rabbit 
 that Towsie brought me, and the lovely basketful of 
 blackberries Leeb and I have picked I " 
 
 They were in the house by this time, and in the 
 
lO ABROAD ON THE MOORLANDS 
 
 room where father sat quietly reading the morning 
 paper ; for Mr. Lea was a farmer in a small way, and 
 had but little time to read anything until the shades 
 of evening fell and work was over for the day. But 
 he was very glad to see the youngsters, and Leel)ie 
 was soon on his knee — her favourite seat — telling 
 him of all their adventures on the plains. 
 
 Well, Mrs. Lea now hurried away to superintend 
 the skinning and stewing of that rabbit, and with 
 mashed potatoes it made, indeed, a delightful supper, 
 flanked by fragrant tea. Sir Duncan Currie sat on 
 the hearth-rug looking at the cheerful fire of turf, 
 wood, and coal, and beside him sat a huge, red tabby- 
 cat, the two being on terms of great intimacy and 
 friendship. 
 
 Towsie sat under the table, but no sooner was 
 supper over than both dogs came out, expectant of 
 their share. Nor were the}^ disappointed. 
 
 Before retiring for the night the farmer took down 
 
 " The big, ha' Bible, once his father's pride," 
 
 and the prayer-book as well, and conducted short but 
 earnest devotions. 
 
 Happy, indeed, is the evening of a day that endeth 
 thus. 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 A WILD RACE — THE CAVE ON THE MOOR 
 
 " I've wandered east, I've wandered west, 
 Through many a weary way, 
 But never, never can forget 
 
 The love of life's young day." 
 
 — William Motherwell. 
 
 Mr. Lea's farm was not a large one, nor was he 
 ever, likely to make a fortune on it. Indeed, as far 
 as the world goes, he was really poor. True, he had 
 not many children. Indeed, we have already become 
 acquainted with all he had ; but the farm had to be 
 tilled, and so there were men and horses to keep and 
 pay for, and the honest fellow was always pleased if, 
 about Christmas time, when he reckoned up his books 
 on the debit and credit side, he found that ends not 
 only met, but lapped a little way over. 
 
 But he was not rich enough to send Leebie and 
 Laurie to a far-off boarding-school, even if he had 
 cared to part with them. And of course to send 
 them to tlie village board school was out of the ques- 
 tion. So they had a somewhat clever governess, who 
 came shortly after breakfast, and taught them all the 
 forenoon. 
 
 Then the children got the afternoon and evening 
 II 
 
12 A WILD RACE 
 
 to themselves, and in fine weather spent most of 
 their time on the upland moor or plain. 
 
 It was neither a moor nor a plain to them, however, 
 but a boundless prairie; and no Indians in the far- 
 west of America ever ran more wild and free than 
 they did here. 
 
 But the dogs were not their only companions, ex- 
 cellent though these were. No, for they had Bob 
 and Neddy besides. 
 
 I may say at once that although Bob, a droll little 
 Shetland pony, belonged entirely to them, and was a 
 very great pet, and a spoiled one too, Neddy the 
 donkey was an inhabitant of the prairie. He dwelt 
 there nearly all the year tlirough, and no one seemed 
 to own him or even know to whom he belonged. 
 
 o 
 
 But he had attached himself very much to Leebie 
 and Laurie Lea, he was a great friend of Bob's, and 
 on the most intimate terms with the dogs. 
 
 Unlike donkeys that are dragged up under man's 
 cruel dominion, Neddy was as fleet as the wind that 
 bent the reeds and grass on the prairie. Yet none 
 the more averse was he to be ridden by Laurie. And 
 the performance was a bareback one with just a rope 
 instead of a bridle. It is true that the boy had a 
 morsel of a whip, but he never touched Neddy there- 
 with. It was merely meant to crack as he gave vent 
 to a wild whoop, and went careering over the plain. 
 
 The day after the blackberrying expedition was to 
 be a holiday. Miss May was going from home, so 
 the two children would have all the long day to 
 
A TVILD EACE I3 
 
 themselves to do just as they pleased. Laurie, how- 
 ever, was by no means an idle boy, and stayed at 
 home for two hours after breakfast, to assist his 
 father in some of the lighter duties of the farm. 
 
 But Bob was brought out at last and saddled and 
 bridled for Leebie to ride. Tlie little rough-haired, 
 long-tailed rascal knew he was going to have some 
 real fine fun, and was full of life and ofo. He shook 
 his great mane and neighed with delight, while the 
 dogs, who were never so well pleased as when the 
 Shetland formed one of the expedition, jumped up 
 and kissed him, then barked in joy and wantonness, 
 as they rushed round and round him on the road. 
 
 Right in fiont of the saddle was a mysterious-look- 
 ing roll or parcel. But there really was no mystery 
 abdut it. For it contained dinner for all hands in- 
 eluding the dogs, of course. 
 
 It was a splendid morning when the}' started. Away 
 to the west were glorious banks of rolling clouds, like 
 icebergs draped with snow; the sky above them, a 
 deep ethereal blue. But southeast by east, the clouds 
 were grey, though fringed at the top with an irregu- 
 lar line of silver, and through the very centre of this 
 l)ank, in a space of lurid biown, sailed the sun. No one 
 (jould say he shone, so sadly shorn of his beams was he. 
 
 Altliough, wlien once faiily mounted, Leebie had a 
 I)reliminary gallop, — she and her wild little steed, 
 dogs and all, being speedily swallowed up by the 
 forest, — they soon returned, and the real fun did not 
 commence until tlie lad climbed the hill and reached 
 
14 A WILD RACE 
 
 the boundary of the plain. And here was Neddy 
 himself waiting for them. As soon as he saw the 
 first head, and that was Leebie's, he lifted up that 
 wonderful voice of his, and gave vent to a series of 
 " Haw-hee's " that really seemed to make the welkin 
 ring. 
 
 The " Haw " was on a low bass key, the " Hee " 
 was a high tenor, shrieked and long drawn out. 
 
 Never mind, it sounded like " ha.u-rie ! Laurie ! " 
 and really was a poean of joy and welcome, or meant 
 to be. 
 
 And now Neddy must fling his heels in the air, and 
 after receiving a kiss from the dogs, rush forward to 
 rub noses with Bob. After this Laurie put his bridle 
 on and mounted him bareback, of course ; for the 
 boy had that fast and secure grip of the knees, which 
 enabled him to ride any horse without a saddle. 
 
 " Hurrah ! " cried Laurie. " Hurrah ! Leebie ! Hur- 
 rah ! Now for a ride over the boundless prairie. 
 Follow me. Whoop ! " 
 
 That wild " whoop! " of Laurie's would have done 
 credit to a Chik-Chek Indian. 
 
 Laurie deserted the road entirely now, and Leebie 
 followed suit. It is true, the plain was somewhat 
 lumpy and, owing to the number of large stones 
 about, not altogether safe ; but the youngsters did not 
 mind that, and if the riders did not care, certainly 
 the steeds didn't. Laurie was evidently going to 
 make a bee-line straight for a cave about a mile 
 distant. 
 
A WILD RACE 1 5 
 
 Leebie bent down and patted Bob, and then Bob 
 knew it was to be a race between him and Nedd3s 
 and that he must overtake him before he reached the 
 cave, or fall dead in his tracks. 
 
 He neighed a wild defiance, then started off at a 
 rate that defies description. But Neddy was a long 
 way ahead from the first, and for a time it seemed 
 that he was actually increasing it. 
 
 Leebie now grew excited, and every minute the 
 Shetland was warming more and more to his work. 
 
 Over and over again she patted his shoulder. " Go 
 on, good Bobbie I go on ! " she cried. " Come, Bobbie, 
 come, we mustn't be beaten ! " 
 
 Bobbie didn't mean to be, if he could help it ; for 
 the pony had the grit in him, as Yankees say. Well, 
 they tell me a donkey's gallop is short and sweet. 
 Then Neddy's must have been an exception ; for 
 though the pony now gained on him hand over hand, 
 the two wild steeds were haidly a hundred yards 
 from the mouth of the cave before they were neck 
 and neck. 
 
 Now came the tug of war. Whether Laurie had 
 been saving Neddy's strength for the finish or not, I 
 cannot say, but he suddenly gave him his head and 
 all the encouragement in his power. 
 
 " Whoop ! whoop ! whoop ! " he shouted. 
 
 Crack, crack, crack, went the whip. Surely no such 
 race as this was ever run before, and no such Derby 
 ever seen. 
 
 Neck and neck, head and head, till almost the fin- 
 
1 6 A WILD RACE 
 
 ish. Then with a wild exultant cry Leebie sent for- 
 ward her little horse, till he seemed to fly, and won — 
 by half a length. 
 
 Even the dogs had been left far in the rear, but 
 as Laurie and Leebie stood there laughing right 
 merrily, as they patted and petted Neddy and Bob, 
 their canine friends came panting towards them. 
 
 And now Leebie's saddle and bridle, and Laurie's 
 rope were taken off and the steeds were set free. 
 "Mind," said Laurie, "you mustn't go very far 
 away, and you must return whenever I Avhistie." 
 
 The cave, which they had now reached, was a 
 strange one. A huge hillock of rock and stones and 
 turf formed its roof, and among these furze was 
 growing, while the entrance was entirely hidden by 
 bushes. 
 
 But inside it was roomy and capacious enough, and, 
 independent of a rude sort of chimney which gave 
 exit to the smoke, there was an orifice on the west 
 side, that admitted liglit enough for every useful pur- 
 pose. 
 
 It was evident that this cave was a favourite resort 
 with Laurie and his sister ; for they had gone so far 
 as to furnish it with a rough wooden table and seats, 
 to say nothing of a large soft couch of lieather and 
 brackens, on which a tired man might well rest and 
 sleep. 
 
 And here was wood in abundance, to say nothing 
 of dry, hard peats. So Laurie set himself at once to 
 liglit a fire, and soon its pleasant blaze, reflected from 
 
A WILD KACE I 7 
 
 the dark, rocky walls on every side, made the place 
 look very cosy indeed, and very homelike, too. 
 
 It was a favourite resort with the boy and his sister, 
 even in early spring before the woodlands were clad 
 in tender green, while the weird spruce firs, and 
 shaggy pines looked black in contrast with the bare 
 grey branches of oak or sycamore, and while, with 
 the exception of the dusky green leaves of the honey- 
 suckle, scarce was a bud or burgeon to be seen on 
 the hedgerows. The air at this time had hardly yet 
 lost its wintry sting, it is true, but the wind that 
 blew across the plain or prairie, though cold, was 
 pure and fresh ; so life and joy were in every breath 
 they breathed. 
 
 But even then there was many a beautiful thing 
 to be seen and admired, and young though even 
 Leebie was, she was a creature of the wilds and 
 loved nature in every form. She might have said 
 with Milton iu " Lycidas " : — 
 
 " Throw hither all your quaint enamelled eyes, 
 That on the green turf suck the honeyed showers, 
 And purple all the ground with vernal flowers. 
 Bring the rathe primrose, that, forsaken, dies; 
 The tufted crow-toe, and pale jessamine, 
 The white pink, and the pansy freaked with jet, 
 The glowing violet, 
 
 The musk-rose, and tiie well-attired woodbine. 
 With cowslips wan that hang the pensive head, 
 And every flower that sad embroidery wears." 
 
 Well Leebie loved the early spring flowers, but 
 c 
 
1 8 A WILD RACE 
 
 though she loved little creeping or flying things as 
 well, she could not help pitying these because they 
 had been born and sent out into the world too soon, 
 and before the sun's rays had gathered strength 
 enough to warm their tiny bodies. 
 
 Look at that lonesome wee lady bird, for instance, 
 in jacket of bright vermilion spotted with black. Not 
 one of its kindred is it likely to meet anywhere in 
 these wilds. It climbs a stalk of withered grass, 
 spreads wide its cloak, and attempts to fly. But the 
 wind chills its tender wings and soon down it drops, 
 and presently the rose-linnet spies it, and the lady- 
 bird is no longer left in misery. 
 
 Or look at yonder little blue butterfly. Was it 
 born this spring, Leebie wonders, or did it lie hiding 
 in some cosy crevice all the winter through, till the 
 spring sunshine lured it forth? It, also, is search- 
 ing in vain for one of its kindred to play with and 
 to love. Alas ! there is none ; but a yellow-billed 
 blackbird has seen it and seized it. Just for a 
 moment or two the blue wings ornament the cheeks 
 of the bonny, bonny bird, then that early butterfly 
 is swallowed and knows no more. 
 
 But both Laurie and his sister know something. 
 They know where that yellow-bill has his nest in the 
 furze, which already is green, and where also the 
 rose-linnet has his ; and how they are built, and how 
 they are lined, and how many pretty eggs each. 
 Both birds cease to sing as the children approach 
 the bushes where their homes are, but more mellow 
 
A WILD RACE 1 9 
 
 and lively than before are their joy-notes when they 
 pass on, after one or two admiring glances. 
 
 There are many more nests to be visited in early 
 spring, many sweet and hardy wee wild flowers to be 
 admired, and much more bird melody to be listened 
 to with delight. 
 
 The opening summer, however, was the favourite 
 season of all with Laurie and Leebie, when dainty 
 May had already clad the trees in tenderest olives 
 and sweetest greens, when the yellow, rich furze that 
 hugged the moor scented all the air around, and the 
 sward by the roadsides was a galaxy of bee-haunted 
 beauty, — a beauty lent to it by the gowan, the 
 
 " Wee, modest, crimson-tipped flower," 
 
 that Burns sang so sweetly of, the rich and tempting 
 white of the clover, the deep orange but crimson- 
 shaded bird's-foot trefoil, starry ox-eye daisies, and 
 lovely blue of the modest speedwell. 
 
 Thus May would lead them, step by step, into the 
 joy of June, when, although the nightingale ceased 
 to sing, the woods, the copses, and the wild, wide 
 moor itself, resounded with the happy voices of a 
 thousand feathered songsters. Happy, did I say? 
 Yea, verily, so happy that their melodies had at 
 times an almost hysterical bubble in them, as if 
 tears of joy were half choking them. 
 
 " O God, it was a holy time ; 
 His breath was o'er the land." 
 
 Would that we could all study His works more, 
 
20 A WILD RACE 
 
 from the greatest even to the least. Grand indeed 
 is the tiger that prowls silently through the jungles 
 of India, and noble and majestic in his terrible 
 strength the ice bear that stalks over the frozen 
 and snow-clad seas of the Arctic ; but in many of 
 the tiniest insects that creep on the stalks of the 
 green July heather or heath, there is a beauty that 
 nothing else on earth can equal, far less surpass. 
 
 He does not really live who loves not nature ; 
 or who ne'er can see beauty and romance in a 
 yellow primrose, and ne'er can feel 
 
 " The witchery of a soft bhie sky." 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 IN TOUCH WITH NATURE 
 
 " Go fortli iiiidei- the oiien sky, and list 
 To Nature's teachings." — Bkyant. 
 
 Just as one who admires the picture of some 
 famous artist is really honouring the maker thereof, 
 so do we truly honour and worship God when we 
 stand in silent awe and admiration before his won- 
 drous works, be they treescapes or seascapes, the 
 marvels of the ever-changing sky, or the living 
 creatures he cares for and loves. 
 
 "You will find," says Bolingbroke, "that it is 
 the modest, not the presum[)tuous, inquirer who 
 makes a real and safe progress in the discovery of 
 divine truths. One must follow nature and nature's 
 God — that is, he must follow God in his Avorks and 
 in his word." 
 
 Well, I have no desire to set my young hero, 
 Laurie Lea, up for a saint. He was just a bold 
 Englisli boy, and I trust there are very many more 
 like him. Somewhat different in type, however, 
 from tlie majority of British lads, who are content 
 to go through their " teens " and merge into man- 
 hood with their eyes shut, so far as nature is con- 
 cerned. 
 
22 IN TOUCH WITH NATURE 
 
 Laurie was nothing unless a naturalist, and though 
 his friend, Ernest Elliot, whom I shall presently 
 introduce, used to listen to all he said with a good 
 deal of pleasure, he himself preferred a fishing-rod or 
 a ride across country to almost any other pleasure 
 that life could afford. 
 
 Still, I cannot help saying that the young man who 
 lives in the country, and does not take up natural 
 history as a pursuit to some extent, is to be pitied. 
 He is wilfully blind with his mental eyes, and denies 
 himself one of the greatest pleasures in existence. 
 But here is the great mistake people who desire to 
 study nature make, — they commence with classifi- 
 cation too soon, and so sicken themselves with long 
 compound Latin or Greek names. Encourage 
 young folks to study the natural history of their own 
 gardens, or even to tell the life-story of a single tree 
 from year's end to year's end; they will get more 
 insight into nature while doing so than if they read 
 a hundred dry-as-dust works of tlie most eminent 
 naturalists. Classification will come in handy after- 
 wards. Put a real naturalist down for six months in 
 a potato patch, and he will write you a beautiful and 
 interesting book thereon, with very little classifica- 
 tion in it. Imprison him in a cellar and give him a 
 candlelight, and in three months' time he wall hand 
 you a most readable book on the life he finds therein. 
 I have met learned souls who were content to dis- 
 miss a bird by telling you its Latin name and classi- 
 fication. The sparrow, they would say, is the " Passer 
 
IN TOUCH WITH NATURE 23 
 
 domesticus," and belongs to the Nat. Fam. " Fringil- 
 lidse." And these men call themselves naturalists. 
 If you dined with me, reader, I could undertake to 
 talk about nothing save sparrows all the evening, and 
 I do believe you would be sorry when bedtime came. 
 And Laurie was just the same, and, mind you this, 
 his character and history are sketched from the life ; 
 for every hero of mine has had his prototj^pe. 
 
 Well, I cannot here repeat all that Laurie used 
 to tell his young friend Ernest and his sister 
 Leebie, who, I may inform you, boys, though you 
 must not let it go any farther, was Ernest's little 
 sweetheart. 
 
 But Laurie was very fond of his, or rather his 
 father's, sparrows, and made them a study, and could 
 tell many a story concerning their nature and habits 
 not to be found in books. 
 
 Several of the poplar trees around his father's farm 
 were covered, as to their stem, with ivy. This was a 
 great roosting-place for flocks of these birds ; so was 
 the ivy over and at each side of the hall door. At 
 sunset of an evening the babel, din, and squabbling 
 for good places were incessant for fully half an hour ; 
 then all was peace till daybreak. In the wistaria 
 and ivy were innumerable nests. These made shel- 
 ters at night during winter for his pets. Up one 
 gable of the stable grew a Gloire de Dijon rose tree. 
 In this tree, during winter, the sparrows often built 
 tiny shelter nests, or rather the females built them 
 to keep their lords and masters snug and cosy. The 
 
24 IN TOUCH WITH NATURE 
 
 same sparrow sat night after night on the same rose 
 twigs, under tliat verandali. Often a sparrow had 
 two wives — more fool he, of course. One, who 
 occupied a particuhar twig close to that lawn window, 
 used to call his two wives every night, and send them 
 to bed before he went himself. This bird used to 
 have a big straw hung over him. If Laurie took it 
 down, or it was blown away, another used to be hung 
 up. The wives of this bigamist sparrow sometimes 
 fought cruelly. The overmuch-married sparrow 
 just looked on, and let them. " What can a poor 
 fellow do?" he would say. "But," he added, "I'll 
 know better another year ! " So, you see, experience 
 teaches sparrows as well as fools. Sparrows are fond 
 of buildinor under the eaves of thatched houses, in 
 waterspouts, in chimneys, and in holes in old orchard 
 trees. An old nest was often relined, and served 
 again and again. They frequently ousted the swal- 
 lows from their nests, but Laurie had never known 
 the latter to clay them up. 
 
 In Laurie's father's orchard grew a great, gnarled 
 old russet apple tree. With a very short fishing-rod 
 he could touch a knot, at the union of two branches, 
 which was hollow and had a tiny entrance hole. The 
 knot was barely nine inches in diameter, and suitable, 
 one would have thought, only for the nest of a wry- 
 neck or wren ; but, nevertheless, a pair of sparrows 
 had lived there and reared families for several years, 
 — unmolested, too, except from the occasional visit of 
 an insolent starling on an egg-hunting expedition, 
 
IN TOUCH WITH nature 25 
 
 who, however, had always confined his audacity to 
 peeping down into the nest witli one eye and passing 
 a few perhaps not overcomplimentaiy remarks. But 
 once the tree and the hollow knot were occupied by 
 the hen-sparrow and a young cock-sparrow, lier son. 
 The son was bigger than the mother, but had not yet 
 completed his spring moult, though the black bib 
 was advancing downwards from the chin. But the 
 curious part of the business was this ; the young cock 
 never left the tree or went many twigs away from 
 the nest. He simply sat there illuming his feathers, 
 his mother coming about every ten minutes with 
 something for him to eat. "Breet, breet, breet," 
 she cried, which means "open you bill." Then she 
 rammed the bread, or beetle, or larva right down his 
 throat. As the young sparrow was somewhat hol- 
 low-eyed, he might have been sickly, but an in- 
 stance of such maternal devotion, I think, deserves 
 to be recorded. 
 
 Farmer Lea himself was a thinking man. Many 
 farmers are. Nor did he keep his tlioughts to him- 
 self, but oftentimes communicated his ideas to his 
 wife, and others around him, while smoking his pipe 
 at the cosy fireside of an evening. 
 
 It was evident tliat Laurie took after him; for Lea 
 was himself a lover of nature, as may be seen from 
 the following remarks lie made to a neighbour who 
 had dropped in one niglit to speak about the crops 
 and the prospects of a good harvest. 
 
 "There is no more delightful study, Tom," he 
 
26 IN TOUCH WITH NATURE 
 
 said, " for young or old than nature, and no more 
 delightful book to read. Some are born naturalists 
 just as othei'S are born musicians ; but even musical 
 taste and that for natural history can be acquired by 
 the young. It is animal nature that appeals most to 
 youth, and they should be encouraged to study that 
 first ; not by catching and killing things, but watch- 
 ing the work and habits of life of the spiders, ants, 
 earwigs, beetles, centipedes, etc. If a father wants 
 to encourage his boy or girl in the pursuit of the 
 most charming science in the world, let him place 
 down on a quiet part of the lawn a flat, thick plank 
 about nine inches wide and three feet long. When 
 it has lain for weeks so that it has half sunk into the 
 ground and the grass is gone from under, it is time 
 to lift it gently. Lo I what a study you will find 
 beneath. Perhaps a score of different natural fami- 
 lies may be found living peacefully there. The boy 
 or girl may lift it day after day, and study the ways 
 and manners of the creatures beneath. A child 
 should receive a reward for every little essay he 
 writes about the plank-dwellers. Moreover, thereby 
 there is at least one moral taught concerning the 
 virtue of peace, for all these creatures live in amity. 
 If it isn't the lion lying down with the lamb, it is 
 the huge, yellow-brown centipede cheek by jowl with 
 a beautiful white-striped burying beetle, or allowing 
 even a little regiment of ants to crawl unmolested 
 over him. Of course the study of natural history 
 has no end. It is supposed that of beetles alone 
 
IN TOUCH WITH NATURE 2/ 
 
 there are about twenty million species in the world. 
 I can't tell how long ago it may be since this world 
 cooled down sufficiently, to permit of the creation of 
 animal life. I believe about two hundred millions 
 of years. However, creation is going on still, and 
 new species of lower animal life being evoluted every 
 day. Why, one can even help the process of evolu- 
 tion in lower life, and so creation will continue till 
 this earth becomes a cold, airless moon to the sun, and 
 the sun an inhabited world, revolving round some 
 huge sun now trillions of miles away. Food for 
 thought in this, I think ! " 
 
 Well, then, Laurie was a student of the nature 
 that is found under stones, — of beetles and all kinds 
 of insects, — and often when Ernest and he were fish- 
 ing he would stop to lift the decayed branch of a 
 tree, that had been lying for long weeks on the bank, 
 and preach his friend a real pretty sermon on the 
 beautiful creepie-creepies that were found beneath. 
 Ernest and Laurie always, after having a good few 
 hours' fisliing, started Leebie off to the cave with 
 some of the catch to prepare supper, and indeed the 
 little maid — thanks to her mother's tuition — was 
 quite an adept at cooking. Then the boys would 
 undress and leap into the stream, accompanied by 
 the dogs, of course, to enjoy a good swim. A long 
 one, too ; for his father told Laurie that swimming 
 was a fine thing to bring up the muscles of the chest, 
 and even of the limbs, and that the bathing, more- 
 over, kept open the pores of the skin. 
 
28 IN TOUCH WITH NATURE 
 
 Ernest opened his eyes very wide indeed, when 
 told that even insects that we consider almost loath- 
 some are most particular as to personal cleanliness. 
 
 And so they are, reader. Who has not watched 
 the carefulness and frequency with which the house- 
 hold fly removes the dust from off his cheeks and 
 down his legs, and how constantly he gives his wings 
 a polish. Other insects do the same. In drowsily 
 hot days in summer, even butterflies wade into ponds 
 to cool their limbs and bodies, and we may be well 
 sure that the gloss and glitter on the backs or elytra 
 of our garden beetles is not kept up without a good 
 deal of trouble and polishing, not necessarily done 
 by their short legs. I watched, with much interest, 
 the other evening an earwig on the outside of a pane 
 of glass. The lamplight shone full upon him, and 
 for half an hour he scrubbed himself all over. Going 
 out to a party, perhaps. 
 
 But Laurie's studies were not all by the river's 
 bank, in the woods, or on the moorland. No, for his 
 father's farm and gardens were well treed, and the 
 old-fashioned house had eaves, under which the mar- 
 tins built. The doings of some of these birds puzzled 
 our young hero not a little. 
 
 At a risk of wearying those of my readers who love 
 not nature, I must mention a curious affair that hap- 
 pened this very autumn in which I introduce my 
 young folks. Laurie, then, on looking out of his 
 bedroom window one morning, was surprised to find 
 that two martins had begun to build under the eaves. 
 
IN TOUCH WITH NATURE 29 
 
 It is true the sun shone very brightly, and that there 
 was every prospect of summer continuing. But it 
 would be far into October before the young, if any 
 should be produced, could be ready to fly. Were 
 these martins mad, or like many newly married 
 couples, only just a trifle foolish ? The building got 
 on very slowly. There seemed a hitch somewhere. 
 They built a portion of one nest, then commenced 
 another six inches from the first. The foundations 
 of both nests were about four inches square, project- 
 ing like small balconies. But at six o'clock in the 
 morning of the 31st of August, a very curious thing 
 happened. A cluster of martins came to inspect the 
 nests. There could not have been less than thirty of 
 them, all old birds. The excitement was intense 
 as they flew twittering to and fro. Half a dozen 
 at least clung to the wall close to the nests, while 
 others, one after another, sat on them, as if trying 
 their stability and comfort. It really seemed just 
 then that those birds were holding a kind of court- 
 martial upon the young couple, and remonstrating 
 with them on the extreme folly of commencing house- 
 keeping at a season so advanced, winter itself but a 
 measurable distance ahead, and the telegraph wires 
 already black with swallows preparing for the great 
 exodus south and away to warmer climes. But the 
 mystery was explained at last. For as soon as the 
 inspection was ended, the flock of martins disappeared 
 as speedily as it had come, and nothing more occurred, 
 nor did a bird go near the nest until six o'clock on 
 
30 IN TOUCH WITH NATURE 
 
 the evening of September 1, when precisely the 
 same sort of thing occurred, Listing only a very few 
 minutes, however. Next morning, on looking out, 
 behold, upon one of the little clay shelves sat a poor 
 little young swallow. Sick or ill it evidently was, 
 and sadly out of moult, but just strong enough to try 
 to preen its feathers. And every night for a whole 
 week there came an old swallow with this ailing 
 young one, and both would seat themselves on a shelf 
 of clay. Then in a short time the mother would fly 
 away, and in the morning, on looking out, my little 
 bird was there. But it seemed to get stronger every 
 day, and then it went away and came no more. 
 There is no bird more fond or careful of its young 
 than the swallow or martin, but the facts stated show 
 a wisdom in these charming birds that is little short 
 of human. 
 
 It will do no harm to mention here, what happened 
 to those hospital shelves on which the martins nui-sed 
 tlie sick one. The story is instructive and shows 
 that even birds study economy. 
 
 Well, when next spring the martins came back, 
 they turned the shelves into nests, making the holes, 
 singularly enough, in the west side. But the insolent 
 sparrows came and bored holes in the east side, cleared 
 the martins out, and began lining the nest for their 
 own use. And now the fun began ; for those martins 
 returned with half a dozen others, and after a fierce 
 fight gained possession of the nests once more, and all 
 was well. But there was no claying up. 
 
IN TOUCH WITH NATURE 3 1 
 
 SOMETHING ABOUT WASPS 
 
 Only a few notes on these interesting creatures, and 
 they have a bearing on natural history of the pleasant 
 order. It was the good old Dr. Watts, I think, who 
 remarked in one of those poems of his, which I had 
 to learn by heart when a little boy, by way of encour- 
 aging me to make the most of life, — which I didn't, — 
 
 " How doth the little busy bee 
 Improve each shining hour, 
 And gather honey all the day 
 From every opening flower ? " 
 
 If the dear old doctor were with me in my caravan 
 (The Wanderer) at this moment, he would be able 
 to answer the question himself. 
 
 The little busy bee is singing right merrily at this 
 moment in my house upon wheels. He has come for 
 the day, if he meets with no accident, and has 
 brought most of his hive mates. They purpose hav- 
 ing a good time of it. Well, wasps are interesting 
 creatures, especially when they have curled up in 
 death. Wasps are by no means difficult to slay if 
 you take the right plan with them. While the little 
 imp is dancing right merrily up and down tlie win- 
 dow pane, he will readily succumb to a poke of your 
 forefinger. But beware you don't give him time to 
 turn his tail on you, else red-hot needles won't be in 
 it with what you'll have to grin and bear. A bright 
 and clever wee lancer is the giddy, gaudy wasp. I 
 think he is at his best on a lovely morning in early 
 
32 
 
 IN TOUCH WITH NATURE 
 
 autumn, when you have fruit in your caravan. 1 
 speak from experience of him, and from close inti- 
 macy with him. I have studied him more than once 
 this summer, with tears of agony in my eyes. Not a 
 fortnight ago I was stung inside the mouth while 
 asleep. I used to believe that I always slept with 
 my mouth shut. I'm not quite of the same opinion 
 now. But what did the little imp of brimstone want 
 inside my lip anyhow ? Perhaps he mistook it for a 
 ripe tomato. Howbeit, I awoke with a start, think- 
 ing the ship was on fire and no water handy. Of 
 course, I couldn't find the carbonate of ammonia, 
 hence my subsequent sorrow. For days I had a lip 
 as large as any old mare's. I am glad to say I soon 
 recovered health and condition, and am now as good 
 looking as ever. But with wasps on the war-path, an 
 accident may happen at any time. Wasps are fond 
 of sweets and fruit, which they carry away in arm- 
 fuls. They also relish boiled liver, and may be seen 
 dining with my St. Bernard dog Lassie any day. 
 Lassie doesn't love them, and at present spends half 
 her spare time snapping at them. When I warn her 
 of the danger, she looks up wonderingly and inquir- 
 ingly. Why should I preserve the lives of wasps? 
 she is thinking, and I feel sorry I cannot explain to 
 her that she hasn't caught my meaning quite. Dogs 
 and wasps are invariably at daggers drawn, but it is 
 the wasp that carries the dagger. Daresay wasps 
 were made for some purpose, but I haven't found out 
 ■ yet just what this purpose is. There is one instinct 
 
IN TOUCH WITH NATURE 33 
 
 they possess in common with cats and carrier pigeons ; 
 namely, the homing. I wish they would make more 
 use of it. There is even one good thing to be said 
 of them, however; they keep early hours. A blue- 
 bottle will sit up all night if 3'ou do, but a wasp re- 
 tires. Onl}^ if you have killed a wasp, don't give it 
 to a baby to play with, unless it is your neighbour's. 
 The wasp stings post mortem. And that's the worst 
 of all. 
 
 Writing about wasps may seem silly to some. But 
 on such a day as this, in such a quiet pitch, — a field 
 of short red clover, on the bonny banks o' Dee, — 
 with the soft, delicious sunshine everywhere, and a 
 breeze to cool and brace ; with the grand old hills be- 
 yond, hills that literally carry the splendid pine tree 
 woods up into the clouds with them, who could or 
 would write on matters dry as dust? See, yonder, 
 across my field the butterflies, crimson and white, go 
 floating and flying, hardly caring whither the west 
 wind wafts them. Heedlessly though each one of 
 them may seem to fly, is he not really obeying the 
 dictates of a kind philosophy, the possession of which 
 you and I might well envy him? He appears to have 
 reached the Nirvana of the Buddhists, and the calm, 
 happy composure of that state — the utter content- 
 ment. That butterfly may enjoy the sunlight and 
 the breeze, the snowy whiteness of the driving clouds, 
 the blueness of the sky, both may give him pleasure 
 as he sips his nectar from the choicest wild flowers, 
 or nods half asleep on the- perfumed thistle. It 
 
34 IN TOUCH WITH NATURE 
 
 would be telling many of us who toil and moil 
 through life, and worry far too much, if, now and 
 then, we could adopt the philosophy of that gaudily 
 painted flutterer, and give ourselves to butterfly- 
 mindedness. To-day, in this sweet meadow, all 
 among the bees, so to speak, I do not feel inclined 
 for work and study of a heavy kind, and isn't this 
 just nature calling out for a little rest — a little lazy- 
 ing ? Depend upon it, a little lazying, boys, now and 
 then, never did a hard-working man or woman aught 
 else save good. But on the other hand, as life is all 
 made up of changes, we must put our shoulder to the 
 wheel when duty calls. Let us feel happy in being 
 able to do so, happy in our strength ; and when tired, 
 and the holiday still on ahead, we can remember 
 the fact that tough, honest work will never kill ; 
 idleness, if indulged in too much, claims its victims 
 every day. 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 LAURIE AND LEEBIE MADE PRISONERS 
 
 Ah, happy hills ! Ah, pleasing shades ! 
 
 Ah, fields beloved in vain I 
 Where once my careless childhood strayed, 
 
 A stranger yet to pain. 
 
 Goblin Cave, which Laurie and Leebie had made 
 their prairie home, was so named because the coun- 
 try folks believed it to be haunted by creatures 
 belonging to a far worse world than ours. It had 
 been, originally, a smugglers' den, if not, indeed, a 
 haunt of robbers, to which they might retire, in the 
 good old times, to count out and share their ill- 
 gotten gains after despoiling the house of some 
 wealthy squire not a hundred miles away. But 
 until the children took to it, the cave had been 
 deserted for many and many a long year. 
 
 It was old Tom Herbert who first gave it a bad 
 name. Tom was taking a near cut across the moor 
 one Saturday night, after spending hours with boon 
 companions in a village some miles distant. Tiiere 
 is a probability that the old fellow had imbibed more 
 than was really good for him. He was positive 
 enough, however, that as he neared the cave he 
 heard the sound of mirth and merriment, and that 
 
 35 
 
36 LAURIE AND LEEBTE MADE PRISONERS 
 
 a strange, little, deformed old man, with a face like 
 a withered potato and a light in his skinny hand, 
 met him, and bowed till his bulbous nose almost 
 touched the heath. 
 
 " My dear Tom Herbert," the goblin said, speak- 
 ing with a strong Irish accent, " and is it indade 
 your beautiful self that I'm after seeing right fore- 
 ninst me ? " 
 
 " It's nobody else," said Tom, " and worse luck, 
 too." 
 
 " Ach ! but, Tom, my darlint, it's into the cave 
 you'll be coming to rest ye." 
 
 " No, no, no," cried Tom ; " my wife would — " 
 
 " And wet your whistle, Tom. Sure it's cowld 
 and dark that the night is, and when 3'ou've wet 
 your whistle, Tom, troth 111 light ye safely o'er 
 the moor meself." 
 
 Well, Tom Herbert was always willing to wet his 
 whistle, and so he followed the goblin into the cave. 
 This was brilliantly lighted up, and scores of the 
 strangest and most uncouth looking beings he had 
 ever seen were sitting, lolling, or squatting round 
 the rocky walls. Some were even standing on their 
 heads ; some had horns ; all had tails ; and all were 
 frightfully ugly. But they grinned, and grimaced, 
 and jibbered, and leered, and laughed till poor Tom 
 began to think he had got into very bad company 
 indeed. He was somewhat comforted, however, 
 when Goblin No. 1 placed a huge bottle and glass 
 before him and bade him drink and be merry. 
 
LAURIE AND LEEBIE MADE PRISONERS 37 
 
 Tom needed no second bidding. The wine was 
 delicious though fiery, but the curious thing was 
 this : the more Tom drank, the thirstier he grew. 
 And now, as the fun was getting fast and furious, 
 Tom staggered to his feet, and happy indeed was 
 he when he found himself once more on the moor, 
 with Goblin No. 1 walking in front with a pale 
 blue, bobbing light. 
 
 Now there were on the moor, and are still, many 
 deep, brown, stagnant pools, and poor Tom had not 
 proceeded a hundred yards, before souse into one of 
 these he fell, head first. 
 
 The banks all around were slippery, black, and 
 peaty, and he could not get out; so he just swam 
 round and round among the swarms of huge, alliga- 
 tor-shaped tritons and awful, crawling, slimy things 
 in which the j^ool abounded. 
 
 He shrieked for help. 
 
 None came, however; but at least fifty horrible 
 goblins from the cave, each with a bobbing light, 
 had joined hands and were dancing and jibbering 
 round the pool. 
 
 It was a terrible sight, and a terrible predicament 
 to be in. 
 
 " Help ! Help ! Save me ! Save me ! " poor Tom 
 Herbert shrieked louder than ever. Then, strangely 
 enough, he awoke in bed. 
 
 Still, there were his clothes which his wife had 
 hung around the fire, and these proved that Tom 
 had really been in the brown pool on the moor. 
 
38 LAURIE AND LEEBIE MADE PRISONERS 
 
 His neighbours all believed his fearsome story, too, 
 and after this, any one wlio had occasion to cross 
 that moor after nightfall gave the cave a very wide 
 berth indeed. 
 
 But lights were frequently seen near it, so it is no 
 wonder the place got so bad a name. 
 
 As soon as the youngsters, on the day of the grand 
 horse and donkey race, had dismissed their steeds and 
 entered the cave, Laurie and the two dogs threw 
 themselves on the couch of bracken, while Leebie 
 busied herself laying a fire. 
 
 I have already said there was a chimney in the 
 cave; only a hole, but the draught was good, and it 
 was under this that Leebie laid the fire, ready to 
 light when the time came. The hearth had a rude 
 kind of crane above it, with a chain and a hook 
 depending therefrom, and on the latter either pot 
 or pan could be hung. 
 
 The furniture in this strange dwelling was simple 
 enough. Besides the couch of bracken, tliere were 
 several stools, and these the boy had made himself. 
 There was also a rude sort of a cupboard with plenty 
 of dishes and cooking utensils, as well as stores of 
 sugar, tea, and coffee. Then there was a very nice 
 table. What more could any half-wild children 
 want, I wonder? 
 
 There were, of course, no pictures on the rough, 
 rocky walls, and articles of virtu were conspicuous 
 simply by their non-existence. Nevertheless, there 
 
LAURIE AND LEEBIE MADE PRISONERS 39 
 
 was plenty of fishing-tackle, and no less than three 
 fishing-baskets. 
 
 And a gun ! 
 
 This gun, or fowling-piece, was greatly revered by 
 Laurie. The plain, or moorland, was a kind of no- 
 man's-land, and the boy could shoot rabbits over it 
 at any time. 
 
 The gun had been given him by an uncle, but once 
 it had led hira into trouble. 
 
 As this trouble, however, had resulted in his 
 becoming acquainted with Ernest Elliot, he never 
 regretted it. 
 
 I shall tell you how it happened. 
 
 The east side of the moor or plain ended in a 
 beautiful wood of oak and sycamore, intermingled 
 with many a dark -plumed pine tree. There was far 
 less undergrowth here than one usually finds in 
 English woods and forests, so that walking -beneath 
 the trees was comparatively easy. 
 
 This wood was not on a level, but clothed the 
 sides of a dingle or dell, adown the centre of which 
 roared or ran a splendid stream, almost big enough 
 to be called a river. 
 
 In the season there was no doubt plenty of game 
 to be found in the wood, but as there were many 
 warnings pasted up on boards informing whomsoever 
 it might concern that trespassers would be "prose- 
 cuted with the utmost rigour of the law," the chil- 
 dren gave the wood, and the stream also, a wide 
 berth. 
 
40 LAURIE AND LEEBIE MADE PRISONERS 
 
 But one beautiful day, in early summer, about four 
 months before the date on which our tale commences, 
 Laurie and Leebie, intent on their studies of the 
 beautiful in nature, had wandered right away to the 
 other end of the moor. Sir Duncan and Towsie 
 were with them of course, but the pony and his 
 friend Neddy were browsing near the cave. 
 
 The children had been very happy during their 
 ramble, pausing often to gaze skywards and listen 
 to bird-music in the clouds, for their prairie was in 
 reality a land of larks. 
 
 But when they came near to the woodland, the 
 character of the bird-music suddenly changed. It 
 was a wild medley now, but a very beautiful one. 
 The song of the thrush, the melodious fluting of 
 the blackbird, the bold lilting of the madcap chaf- 
 finch, and the sweet voices of linnets and warblers, 
 to say nothing of the low purring of the turtle-dove 
 and mournful croodle of the wood-pigeon. 
 
 "Oh, isn't it lovely, Laurie!" cried Leebie, clap- 
 ping her hands with joy. " Do come into the wood 
 just a little way and sit down." 
 
 " No, Leebie, no. We — " 
 
 How his sentence would, have ended, I cannot tell ; 
 for just at that moment, the daft wee terrier sud- 
 denly came to the conclusion that he scented a rab- 
 bit down yonder somewhere. He appealed to Towsie, 
 and Towsie seemed to wink with his wall eye. Then 
 off they both darted, and were speedily out of sight. 
 
 Not out of hearing, however, and from their 
 
LAURIE AND LEEBIE MADE PRISONERS 4 1 
 
 anxious, sharp, ringing barks, Laurie rightly judged 
 that they were in chase. 
 
 Some one else was of tUe same opinion, and that 
 was Squire Elliot's corduroyed keeper. 
 
 Laurie stood not on ceremony now, but rushed 
 into the wood trying to recall the dogs. 
 
 It was fully half an hour before the latter returned, 
 Towsie carrying a rabbit, Currie trotting by his side 
 and looking very proud indeed. 
 
 And behind them, at some distance, appeared the 
 keeper, to the infinite terror of poor Leebie. He was 
 an ugly, rough-looking, pock-marked man, with an 
 evil eye in his head. No, he had not two, for years 
 ago one had been shot out by a poacher. 
 
 Why Laurie had brought his gun with him that 
 day, he himself could never tell. It was certainly 
 with no intention of spilling the blood of even a pole- 
 cat. 
 
 " Well, lad, I've caught thee nicely," shouted the 
 keeper. "Noo, I'll tell thee wot I'm goin' to do» 
 I'm goin' to shoot that dog! " 
 
 With a little scream, Leebie ran forward and threw 
 her arms about Towsie's neck. She knelt on the 
 ground and Currie cuddled up beside her. 
 
 Hardly accountable for his action, Laurie lowered 
 his gun and pointed it at the fellow's head. It was a 
 bold act, but a very foolish one. 
 
 "Dare to slioot a dog of mine," he cried, " and I'll 
 shoot out your other ugly eye." 
 
 The keeper was cowed evidently. 
 
42 LAURIE AND LEEBIE MADE PRISONERS 
 
 " Aw — aw — I didn't mean to shoot the da wg," he 
 said, "but ye've been a-trespassin' and a-poachin'. 
 Ye'll all have to come along to t' squire's 'ouse." 
 
 " That we shall right willingly." 
 
 Towsie permitted Laurie to take the rabbit, but 
 when he handed it to the keeper the dog sprang at 
 once on the fellow and speedily repossessed himself 
 of the bunny. So the boy slung it over his shoulder, 
 and the march commenced. 
 
 Far down the stream stood the Grange, and Leebie 
 was quite tired before they reached the beautiful 
 mansion. 
 
 The keeper would have gone round to the back with 
 his prisoners, but the squire himself and a tall manly 
 boy about Laurie's age — Ernest, in fact — were on 
 the rose lawn. 
 
 A red-faced, jolly-looking man was the squire. 
 
 "What, ho! there. Brown," he shouted; "whom 
 have you got ? Bring them this way." 
 
 " Daring poachers, sir," said Brown, touching his 
 hat. 
 
 The squire was evidently impressed with the inno- 
 cent young beauty of Leebie. He patted her bonnie 
 hair and told her not to be afraid. 
 
 "If we are going to be thrown into a dungeon," 
 said Laurie, " I'd like to give my dogs a drink of 
 water first." 
 
 Squire Elliot laughed such a hearty ringing laugh, 
 that Laurie was obliged to join in. 
 
 " Go and bring water for these dogs. Brown," cried 
 
LAURIE AND LEEBIE MADE PRISONERS 43 
 
 the squire. "And look quick about it. Come in, 
 children," he added, taking Leebie's hand, " and tell 
 me all about it." 
 
 They entered the drawing-room through the French 
 window, but the kindly squire would not let Laurie 
 commence his story, until he and his sister and even 
 the dogs had partaken of refreshments. Then Laurie 
 did tell him and Ernest all ; all about the moor and 
 their cave, their studies and sports, and their dear 
 father and mother and the farm at home. 
 
 The squire, and his wife also, were very much 
 amused and interested, and it ended thus : they were 
 invited to tea for next day, Laurie's fishing-basket 
 was filled with bananas, — fruit that neither he nor 
 his sister had ever seen before, — and Ernest himself 
 was sent to convoy them safe through the woods. 
 
 He went all the way to their wondrous cave with 
 them, and marvelled much at their household arrange- 
 ments. 
 
 A very frank open-faced lad was Ernest, with blue 
 eyes and fair short-cut hair. His manners and speech 
 were just as frank as was his face, and he did not 
 hesitate for a moment to tell Leebie how clever he 
 thought her, and how pretty ! 
 
 " Oh," returned the child-woman, blushing a little, 
 but with pleasure, not shyness. " I'm not nearly so 
 pretty as you. Then you talk so nicely ! " 
 
 " Well, we had better be sweethearts, I suppose." 
 
 " Oh, I don't know what that is, you know ; but 
 you'll come and see us, won't you?" 
 
44 LAURIE AND LEEBIE MADE PRISONERS 
 
 " Yes, often, often I " 
 
 "And Fm sure the dogs will like you?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " And Bobbie and Neddy, too ? " 
 
 " I hope so." 
 
 " Have you any sisters and brothers ? " 
 
 " Ye-es. Three of each." 
 
 " But they can't be so nice as you ? " 
 
 " Oh, much, much nicer, because they are all big, 
 Miss Lea." 
 
 " You might just call me Leebie. Everybody 
 does." 
 
 " Yes, if 3'ou call me Ernie. Everybody does." 
 
 This compact was soon made. 
 
 But Ernest Elliot was really a romantic sort of a 
 boy, and always building castles in the air, founded 
 on what he meant to do when he grew a man. 
 
 He was the younger son. Moreover, he had an 
 uncle who was an officer in Her ]\Iajesty's Royal 
 Navy, and who used to tell him the most thrilling 
 stories of adventure, and of life in far-off lands; so 
 Ernest had quite made up his mind to travel some- 
 where abroad when bigger and stronger. 
 
 He told Laurie and Leebie this, and both said that 
 they should dearly love to share liis adventures. 
 
 "But that," sighed Laurie, "can never, never be! " 
 
 How little do we know what Fate may have in 
 store for us ! 
 
 Well, the acquaintanceship made that day soon 
 became cemented into a friendship that was almost 
 
LAURIE AND LEEBIE MADE PRISONERS 45 
 
 brotherl}', and nearly every day on which Laurie and 
 Leebie went to the boundless prairie, Ernie met them, 
 and fine fun they had, I do assui-e you, boys. Fish- 
 ing, I think, is the most calmative and delightful 
 sport any one can engage in. Of course one cannot 
 help being a little sorry for the fish hauled out, and 
 for this reason I never leave either a trout or salmon 
 to pine and die by degrees. I kill it at once. 
 
 Well, on this very autumn day the children were 
 awaiting Ernest's arrival. 
 
 But a whole hour passed away ; then two. 
 
 Laurie had been reading or talking to his sister 
 most of this time, but now he closed the book wearily. 
 
 Leebie was weary too. 
 
 " Heigh-ho ! " she sighed, " I do wonder if he will 
 come at all to-day." 
 
 " I feel certain he won't. And now I have some- 
 thing to propose. " 
 
 " Yes, Laurie." 
 
 " Well, we shall take our fishing-tackle, mount our 
 fiery steeds, and ride off to the river to catch our din- 
 ner, then ride home and cook it." 
 
 This programme was carried out to the very 
 letter. 
 
 And the fish were hungry that day. And so, too, 
 was Laurie ; therefore he did not stay to make a very 
 big basket, and in two hours from the tiftie they 
 started they were back once more at the cave and 
 Bobbie and Neddy were again turned loose. 
 
 What a delightful aroma pervaded the cave, as 
 
46 LAURIE AND LEEBIE MADE PRISONERS 
 
 Leebic fried those fish. She knew how much salt 
 to sprinkle over them, and the exact quantity of 
 pepper. 
 
 Laurie had thrown himself on the couch again, 
 with a dog at each side of him, and being just 
 pleasantly tired, it is no wonder he fell asleep. So 
 soundly did he slumber, indeed, that his sister had 
 to shake him over and over again before he opened 
 his bewildered ej'^es. 
 
 And both children and dogs did more than justice 
 to the dinner ; for the beautiful crimson-spotted trout 
 were done to a turn, the bread and butter were deli- 
 cious, and Leebie had gone so far as to roast potatoes 
 in the hot ashes. And really, those potatoes seemed 
 to have burst their sides, laughing at the way they 
 had been treated. 
 
 But as they sat there talking and eating, with 
 Currie and Towsie between them, little did they 
 know that they would soon have an adventure — 
 a strange, if not, indeed, a terrifying one. It is well 
 we do not always know what is before us. 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 THE HAUNTED HOUSE 
 
 " Close by a wild hobgoblin moor 
 And near a lonesome ^Yood 
 Where black bats flit and owlets scream, 
 The dreary hamlet stood." — Axox. 
 
 The short November day had worn to a close, and 
 the sun had set behind wooded hills in the far south- 
 west, leaving a bank of fiery-looking clouds that 
 boded a dark, and probably a stormy night. 
 
 Indeed, the sky was already overcast, and a low 
 wind was beginning to moan across the moorland. 
 
 Nothing, however, could terrify these children of 
 the wilds, for they knew their way home, and even 
 if they should go astray, was Towsie not by their 
 side ? Yes, and his instinct before now had proved 
 far more useful than even their reason. 
 
 " Reason raise o'er instinct if you can ; 
 In this 'tis God directs, in that 'tis man." 
 
 But now Laurie and Leebie started for their distant 
 home, riding, as usual, on Bobbie and Ned, with the 
 two dogs wheeling around them in wide circles, and 
 barking with delight. 
 
 47 
 
48 THE HAUNTED HOUSE 
 
 They were quite at the other end of the moor 
 before Laurie made a disagreeable discovery. 
 
 " Oh, Leebie," he cried, " how very foolish of me ! 
 Why, I've forgotten to bring my fishing-basket and 
 those lovely trout we saved for mother. Will you 
 stay here till I ride back?" 
 
 '' No, I should be afraid ; I'll go, too." 
 
 Well, it was almost quite dark before they got 
 once more started, on their return. 
 
 " I'll tell you what we shall do to-night, Leebie," 
 said Laurie. 
 
 "Yes?" 
 
 "We shall take the short cut." 
 
 " By the haunted house ? " 
 
 " I don't like it, Laurie," she added, " but of course 
 I won't be afraid, with you and Towsie and Currie 
 and Bob beside me." 
 
 What they called " the haunted house " was a two- 
 storied cottage with dark, blinking windows, that 
 stood near to a gloomy-looking little wood, or copse, 
 with no other place near. An old miser used to live 
 here all by himself with merely the companionship 
 of a white pony that, like himself, was little more 
 than skin and bone. He tilled a bit of a croft which, 
 since his demise, had gone all to ruin, and was over- 
 grown now with nettles and thistles. 
 
 The old man had died as he had lived, — all, all 
 alone ; and it was nearly a fortnight afterwards 
 that he was found, lying frozen hard — for it was 
 midwinter — beside his hearth. And, sad to relate. 
 
THE HAUNTED HOUSE 49 
 
 the white pony had perished of cold and hunger in 
 its stall. The poor animal had even eaten part of 
 the woodwork near it. 
 
 No one would take the house and croft after that, 
 so it liad been permitted to fall into deca3^ 
 
 It looked very gloomy to-night as the children 
 approached it, and indeed I know nothing much 
 more dismal to behold than an empty house in a 
 place like this. The windows were curtainless and 
 black. Like ugly leering eyes they were, and the 
 veiy cottage itself seemed to nod, as the wind moaned 
 through the tall trees behind it. 
 
 People did say that on many a dark night the old 
 miser used to be seen, lantern in hand and nightcap 
 on head, roaming around the house or out on the 
 moor leading that skeleton white pony by the fore- 
 lock. 
 
 But neither of the children believed this. Some- 
 thing — they could not tell what — appealed to lure 
 them closer to the house, to-night, and they stopped 
 to gaze in through one of the windows, as if in a 
 spirit of fascination. 
 
 Suddenly, to their terror and amazement, a door 
 in the room opened, and a tall figure, holding a candle, 
 entered, and approached the fireplace. They could 
 not see his face very well, but they noticed that his 
 clothes were curiously fashioned, and light in colour. 
 Moreover, they were covered all over with dark mark- 
 ings resembling arrow-heads. 
 
 But now Towsie ^ave vent to a sort of startled 
 
50 THE HAUNTED HOUSE 
 
 bark, and suddenly the light went out, and they saw 
 no more. 
 
 Neddy had been set free, but Bob with Leebie on 
 his back now started off in fine style for home. He, 
 too, had been frightened. 
 
 And Laurie trotted alongside, all the way to their 
 own door. 
 
 Glad, indeed, were they when they got inside, for 
 here was a cosy fire. Daddy was in his arm-chair, 
 smoking and reading, the big cat was nodding half 
 asleep on a footstool, and supper was ready. They 
 told their strange story. 
 
 They had seen the ghost ! 
 
 But Farmer Lea only laughed. 
 
 "That was no ghost, my children," he said, "but 
 some poor escaped convict in hiding, and no doubt 
 we shall soon hear of his capture." 
 
 But the adventure did not end quite here. 
 
 For after school hours next day, Laurie and Leebie 
 once more set out for the moor. 
 
 The day was fine after the storm, and the sky was 
 clear and blue. 
 
 They were anxious to see Ernest, but they took 
 the longest road. They had seen more than enough 
 of the haunted house. 
 
 It was well on in the afternoon before they neared 
 the cave, and lo ! yonder was Ernest Elliot himself 
 coming to meet them, riding at the gallop on Neddy. 
 
 Neddy and he seemed both in fine form, and the 
 former must needs stop so suddenly short that Ernest 
 
THE HAUNTED HOUSE 5 1 
 
 fell off, but quickly gathered himself up, laughing. 
 Neddy was laughing too. That was what he had 
 stopped for ; and when Neddy laughed as he did 
 now, with a " Haw-hee I haw-hee I " the sound was 
 reechoed back from the very clouds — apparently. 
 
 " Couldn't get away yesterday, Leebie," said Ernest. 
 " Uncle came home from sea ! " 
 
 " And, oh, Ernie," cried Leebie, " we had such a 
 terrible fright going home ! " 
 
 " Yes," added Laurie, "a real wild adventure ! " 
 
 " Well, don't tell me now. It will be so much 
 nicer to hear it after tea and supper." 
 
 Ernie had been at the cave a whole hour. He had 
 laid and lit the fire ; by this fire stood a very long- 
 legged stew-pan, and the kettle was singing as it 
 dangled from tlie crane. 
 
 It was a lovely supper, and all did justice to it, 
 including the dogs, of course. 
 
 Then they heaped more wood and peats on the 
 fire, and sat cosily round it. 
 
 " And father says it was an escaped convict," said 
 Laurie, as he concluded the relation of his strange 
 adventure. 
 
 " Poor fellow ! " said Ernest, sympathisingly. " I 
 wonder what he has done, and how he escaped. Do 
 you know, Laurie, I hope he will get clear away." 
 
 Then Ernie began to tell his friends all about his 
 sailor uncle, and his wild adventures. 
 
 So the time flew very quickly on indeed. 
 
 But this young fellow had a violin on which he 
 
52 THE HAUNTED HOUSE 
 
 could play indifferently well. He had bronght it to 
 the cave for Laurie and Leebie's delectation, both 
 being very fond of sweet music, and it was kept in 
 the cupboard. 
 
 It was quite dusk when he began to play, but the 
 firelight threw a ruddy glare across the cave, and 
 everything else was forgotten as the children listened 
 to the sweet sad strains of tlie violin. 
 
 Suddenly both dogs sprang up from the hearth 
 and rushed barking towards the mouth of the cave ; 
 and on looking up all were startled, and Leebie sadly 
 terrified, to see standing there the very figure they 
 had seen in the haunted house. 
 
 " Don't be alarmed, children," the man hastened to 
 say ; " I am far too weak and ill to do any one any 
 harm, even if I had the will. Which, Heaven knows, 
 I have not." 
 
 No one answered, and he continued, — 
 
 " Just for a moment, I saw last night a face at the 
 window of the old house I have been hidden in for 
 weeks. It was that sweet girl's." 
 
 "You are an escaped convict," said Ernest; "we 
 ought to give you up." 
 
 " Stay, young sir; stay till you have heard my stor3\ 
 It is true, I have escaped, but oh, children ! I am an 
 innocent and badly treated man. The house in which 
 I have been hiding is no longer safe for me. The 
 warders are on my track, and a place like that is 
 the first they would examine. May I beg shelter for 
 the night, and a morsel of food?" 
 
THE VERY FIGURE THEY HAD SEEN IN THE HAUNTED HOUSE. 
 
THE HAUNTED HOUSE 53 
 
 " If you say you are innocent," said Ernest Elliot, 
 " we will try to believe you, and you really have not 
 the looks of a malefactor." 
 
 " Oh no," cried Leebie. 
 
 Nor had he. Despite his short cropi^ed hair and 
 beard, both black, his looks Avere prepossessing. 
 Young he was, and with singularly dark blue eyes, 
 that at present were unspeakably sad. 
 
 "Come closer to the fire, and sit down," said 
 Laurie; "you must be cold." 
 
 The convict did as he was told, seating himself on 
 an old tree root. 
 
 Towsie approached him quietly and licked his hand, 
 and even Currie did not now resent the intrusion. 
 
 The friendliness of the dogs raised him very much 
 in the estimation of the boys; for well they knew, 
 just as you and I know, reader, that a dog is a better 
 judge of character than even a man. 
 
 The children were very glad, indeed, that there was 
 enough food in the cave to make the man a comfort- 
 able supper, after which he appeared far more cheer- 
 ful. 
 
 " And now," said Ernest, " we would hear your 
 story. Though it is dark inside the cave, it will be 
 light enough for a whole hour yet on the moor. We 
 shall see to get home." 
 
 " But may I rest me here to-night, boys ? " 
 
 " Most certainly." 
 
 "And you will not give me away?" 
 
 " If by that you mean inform on you," said Ernie, 
 
54 THE HAUN'fED HOUSE 
 
 " both I and my friends here promise most faithfully 
 to try to save you, rather than to give you away." 
 
 " Oh, thanks ! a thousand thanks I " cried the jjoor 
 convict. " Undoubtedly the warders will be at the 
 old house to-morrow, and I have purposely left evi- 
 dence that I have been there. They will then, I 
 think, go on. If not, and if they seize me here, 
 surely the bitterness of Fate can have nothing worse 
 in store for me. 
 
 " But come, cliildren, I sadden you, I fear. Give 
 me your violin for a minute, lad. I used to play, 
 two years ago, before my incarceration. Perhaps my 
 fingers have not yet lost all their cunning." 
 
 Indeed they had not, and our young heroes sat 
 enthralled as the convict played. That violin seemed 
 possessed of spirit-life in his hands ; it was a being 
 from a better world. But alas ! even his quick and 
 merry pieces had an air of such sadness about them, 
 that Ernest's eyes were filled with tears. 
 
 " What would I not give," cried the boy, as the 
 convict handed him back the fiddle, "to be able to 
 play like you I But now, sir, tell us your story." 
 
 He spoke even with deference ; for convict though 
 this man was, he was likewise a master. 
 
 " I will, boys, I will, and innocent though you are, 
 you may learn a lesson therefrom. Yet goodness 
 forbid that I should even seem to preach. I shall 
 but state facts in the simplest way I can." 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 
 THE convict's TERRIBLE STORY 
 
 " He Cometh unto you with a tale which can hold children 
 from play, and old men from the chimney corner." — Sir 
 Philip Sidney. 
 
 "For two years back then," he began, "while 
 
 slaving in the stone quarries of P , I have been 
 
 known but by a number. I have had no name. Yet 
 it does not seem so very long ago since I was one of 
 the happiest and best respected young fellows in the 
 
 city of C . And the name that the law has 
 
 filched from me was Wilson Webb. Boys, if I 
 escape, I mean with God's help to restore that name. 
 I might take another, but I am innocent, and never 
 shall. I shall tiy to work my passage to a foreign 
 land, but I will still be Wilson Webb. 
 
 " I cannot remember either my father or mother. 
 In fact, the former died before my birth, and, broken- 
 hearted, my mother did not live a year after. But 
 it is, perhaps, as well they did not survive to see 
 their son in the dock, and condemned to penal servi- 
 tude. 
 
 " My father had many good friends ; one of these 
 adopted and reared me. I believe both he and his 
 wife were very fond of me. But alas I both died of 
 
 55 
 
56 THE CONVICT'S TERRIBLE STORY 
 
 fever within a fortnight of each other, and I was 
 once more thrown penniless, or nearly so, on the 
 world. 
 
 " But my education had been good, and I was 
 shortly taken into the office of a wealthy city mer- 
 chant, who had known my mother. 
 
 "There were two other clerks besides myself, and 
 the white-haired old gentleman was very kind to us 
 all and trusted us implicitly. Young though I was, 
 I have often been sent to the bank to cash cheques 
 many hundreds of pounds in value. So, too, was 
 Robson. 
 
 "Robson and I, you must know, lived in the same 
 apartments, just one cosy bedroom and a sitting-room; 
 but our old landlady was exceedingly good to us, so 
 that I was as happy as a summer's day is long. 
 
 " Peters, the other clerk, and I were very great 
 friends. Indeed, I think we loved each other more 
 than many brothers do. But he was a year or two 
 younger, and lived with his parents. He had a very 
 beautiful sister, and I was a frequent visitor at the 
 house of an evening, always taking my violin with 
 me. 
 
 "You, boys, are too young to know anything about 
 love, but I loved my friend's sister more, I used to 
 think, than life itself. It was with my fiddle I wooed 
 her, lads, and often and often as I played have I seen 
 the tears streaming down her sweet face. Heigh-ho ! 
 I wonder where Madeleine is now ! 
 
 " But now let me tell you a little more about Rob- 
 
THE CONVICT'S TERRIBLE STORY 57 
 
 son. For a year or so while living together, he seemed 
 all that any one could wish. Bnt after this he took to 
 staying out later at night tlian I liked, and I knew 
 that much of his time was spent at a hotel bar, a good 
 deal frequented by so-called sporting characters. 
 
 " I must add, however, that I never saw Robson the 
 worse for accursed drink. But his talk was all too 
 frequently of the turf. He would often tell me that 
 he had ' spotted a winner,' or that he had received ' a 
 straight tip,' and there were rare occasions when he 
 seemed as full of joy and gladness as if some one had 
 just left him a fortune. 
 
 " Right well do I remember his coming home one 
 evening more joyful than usual. 
 
 " ' Wilson,' he said, ' I wonder you don't have a bet 
 on now and then. There now, we are pals, and so I 
 don't mind putting you up to a good thing at any 
 time.' 
 
 '"I don't seem to care for such things,' I said; 'for 
 old hands have told me that what you win one day, 
 you lose another, and more besides.' 
 
 "'Nonsense, Wilson, nonsense. Now just look 
 here. I'm going to make your eyes twinkle with envy 
 and surprise.' 
 
 " Tlien he hauled forth handfnl after handful of 
 gold, and threw it carelessly down on the table. 
 
 " ' Count it, Webb, count it, and if you want a bit, 
 you can have it.' 
 
 " I counted the money, which amounted to no less 
 than sixty pounds. 
 
58 THE CONVICT'S TERRIBLE STORY 
 
 " I confess that I did feel a little envious. ' What 
 good,' I could not help thinking, ' was there in slaving 
 away at the drudgery of an office desk if money could 
 be so easily made by spotting a winner, as Robson 
 called it?' 
 
 " I had more than half a mind to try to spot a win- 
 ner myself. 
 
 " Robson stood there with his hands in his pockets, 
 his head a little to one side, and a smile on his sinister 
 face — he was very far indeed from being prepossessing 
 — gazing down at the bright yellow pile. 
 
 " ' Look here, Webb,' he said, ' I'm going to ask for 
 a fortnight's leave, and I know the old man will grant 
 it. I shall run up to town, and before I come back 
 that sixty pounds will be six hundred pounds at least. 
 Then I'll cut the office and turn a book-maker. Now 
 can I put a " sou " on for you ? ' 
 
 " Then I foolishly enough gave him the last piece 
 of gold I had in the world. 
 
 " My horse lost, and I tempted the turf no more. 
 
 " Yet I did expect Robson to come back with 
 plenty of money. 
 
 "Alas! he not only returned penniless, but minus 
 even his watch. 
 
 " ' Down on my luck. Horrid ! ' he said, throwing 
 himself into the easy-chair, with his legs extended in 
 front of him, and his hat resting on the bridge of his 
 nose. 
 
 " ' Never mind, Webb, better times will come. 
 You'll see.' 
 
THE CONVICT'S TERKIBLE STORY 59 
 
 " But things seemed to go from bad to worse with 
 my companion, and I noticed more than once that, 
 when he returned late, he was evidently not sober. 
 Yet he was ahvays fresh enough in the morning, 
 and our kind old employer knew nothing about his 
 doings. 
 
 "Christmas time came round, and I myself was out 
 nearly every evening, my violin being in great repute. 
 But I knew that Robson stayed more in the house 
 now, and I hoped for his reformation. 
 
 " But early in the new year came the awful de- 
 nouement. 
 
 " I had been out on a business message at the other 
 end of the city, and, when returning, met Robson 
 near to the bank. 
 
 " ' Ah ! Webb,' he cried ; ' glad I met you. I've to 
 meet a fellow in this hotel, but won't be long. Just 
 toddle into the bank, will you, and cash this cheque 
 for the firm ? All gold if you can carry it, except 
 twenty in five-pound notes.' 
 
 " I willingly obeyed. 
 
 " The cheque was for <£ 420. 
 
 " Robson was in the street, about fifty yards from 
 the bank, and I handed him the bag, and then hurried 
 home to dinner. 
 
 " But I cannot describe to you the horror and the 
 terror I felt on being awakened one morning about a 
 fortnight after, and finding two burly policemen and 
 a man in plain clothes standing by the foot of the 
 bed. 
 
60 THE CONVICT'S TERRIBLE STORY 
 
 " ' You're our prisoner,' said the latter. ' Dress 
 yourself quietly, and come along.' 
 
 " ' But what does it mean ? ' I cried, as soon as I 
 could speak. ' Of what am I accused ? ' 
 
 " ' Know no more than you do,' said the detective. 
 ' Mebbe not so much, young fellow. Anyhow, I've 
 got to act upon my warrant; so look smart.' 
 
 "When arraigned later on upon a cliarge of forgery, 
 my anguish and perturbation of mind must have been 
 mistaken for guilt. Anyhow, I was remanded, bail 
 being refused, and after a time, oh, such a wear}-, 
 weary time ! I was brought up for trial. 
 
 " The cheque that Robson had given me to cash 
 had been a forged one. I told all the truth, and 
 nothing but the truth. 
 
 " I was not believed. 
 
 " ' Had I forged that cheque,' I cried in agon}-, 
 ' surely, I would not have taken it myself to the bank.' 
 
 " ' Silence, young man,' said the judge, sternl}-. 
 
 " Even Robson appeared as a witness against me, 
 swearing he had found morsels of paper by the fire- 
 place of a morning, with our emplo3^er's signature 
 thereon. Also that I was often up late in the sitting- 
 room, writing he knew not what. 
 
 But the most terrible evidence against me — evi- 
 dence that was deemed conclusive — was the fact that 
 in my desk was found not only a sheet of paper writ- 
 ten all over with imitations of the firm's signature, 
 but two of the bank-notes the cashier had paid me 
 when he gave me the gold. 
 
THE CONVICT'S TERRIBLE STORY 6 1 
 
 " I kuew little more till I found myself in the cell. 
 All was like some awful nightmare. 
 
 " Five years' penal servitude; that was my sentence. 
 
 Robson never came near me, but poor, kind-hearted 
 Peters did, and I told him all my story. There was 
 just one ray of pleasure shining through my dark- 
 ness, when I found that Peters believed and pitied 
 me from his inmost soul. 
 
 " I need not tell 3'ou all the misery I endured 
 from my first months of solitary confinement until 
 I found myself a nameless, numbered wretch work- 
 ing in a gang at P . 
 
 " I resolved to escape some time. That is, I 
 should make the attempt, and if I was shot dead 
 in my endeavour, I should be out of all my misery. 
 
 " But two years passed away and I never had a 
 chance — till one day. 
 
 "My conduct had always been represented as 
 exemplary, and I believe I was about the last man 
 any one could have suspected of hai-bouring designs 
 of escape. 
 
 " My attempt was a most daring one. 
 
 "We were working at the foot of an apparently 
 inaccessible cliff, but from my boyhood I had been 
 an athlete and a splendid climber. 
 
 " Well, on this particular day, when I broke and 
 made a dash for the cliff, the fog was so dense that 
 men were invisible five yards away. 
 
 "The entrance to the quarry was extra well 
 guarded, but not the cliff-top. 
 
62 THE CONVICT'S TERRIBLE STORY 
 
 " For a considerable time I was not missed, and 
 my companions in servitude would have been the 
 last to inform. 
 
 "But, oh! that terrible, terrible cliff! I had 
 kicked off my shoes and clung to it as I slowly 
 ascended with bleeding fingers and feet. It was 
 steep and high, and many times I missed footing, 
 holding on only by the hands, expecting every 
 second to fall and be dashed to pieces. I was just 
 beginning to despair, and had resolved to drop and 
 end it all, when a bush of broom, waving in the 
 breeze, flicked across my face. 
 
 "I grasped it — and was free. 
 
 " Free so far, that is. 
 
 " Every moment was precious, yet would I not fly 
 until I had knelt down there on the green cliff-top 
 and thanked God, while the tears streamed over my 
 cheeks, that so far he had aided my deliverance. 
 
 " I heard bells ringing now and guns fired, and 
 knew that soon all the countrj^-side would be 
 apprised of the convict's escape. 
 
 " But the fog was my best friend ; and for a 
 whole week I journe3^ed on and on, sleeping in the 
 woods all day, travelling only at night, and living 
 entirely on raw turnips or even mangolds. 
 
 " Well, boys, here I am ; and I have hopes I may 
 yet escape entirely. But these awful clothes and 
 my stubbly beard may prove my ruin." 
 
 Ernest sat in silence for some time. He was 
 thinking. 
 
THE CONVICT'S TERRIBLE STORY 63 
 
 " We do, indeed, pity you," he said at last. 
 "Remain here to-niglit, and to-morrow morning 
 you shall be rid of both beaid and clothes." 
 
 Ernest Elliot was as good as his word ; and when, 
 next forenoon, Laurie and Leebie came to the cave, 
 they were much surprised to find, sitting by the fire 
 reading, a comparatively well dressed young man, 
 clean-shaven and respectable-looking. 
 
 But the situation had not been without a touch 
 of humour, which only showed how clever Ernest 
 was. 
 
 It is a fact tlren that deserters have been known 
 to exchange clothes v/ith a scarecrow in a potato 
 field, and so begging their way home in rags. Well, 
 Ernest not only brought the convict a decent suit of 
 clothing long before it was light, but he took away 
 the convict's clothes, carried them to a field not far 
 away, and exchanged them for the dress of the 
 scarecrow therein. 
 
 He brought back the old ragged habiliments and 
 burned them in the cave, assuring Wilson Webb 
 that the scarecrow made a very pretty convict 
 indeed. 
 
 But there was a method in Ernest's madness or 
 folly; for the warders had followed the convict 
 directly north, getting a clew here and there to 
 direct them, and the potato field lay to the north 
 of the haunted house. 
 
 It all turned out, therefore, just as Ernest wished 
 it to. 
 
64 THE CONVICT'S TERRIBLE STORY 
 
 For the pursuers, while Webb lay perdu in the 
 cave, appeared on the moor, where the boys and 
 Leebie were playing with Bobbie, Ned, and the 
 dogs. 
 
 They were questioned, of course, and right frankly 
 did Laurie tell the story of their having seen the 
 convict in the old house ; and off went the minions 
 of the law. 
 
 Not finding their man, they pursued their course 
 still to the north, and they had not proceeded more 
 than a mile before they came in sight of the convict 
 scarecrow. 
 
 They laughed with very joy now. 
 
 " We'll have him," cried one, rubbing his hands. 
 " We've only to find out how the scarecrow was 
 dressed, and send its description to every police office 
 within a hundred miles." 
 
 And this they did. 
 
 But all in vain ; so after a whole week of further 
 
 searching, they returned to P , disheartened and 
 
 disappointed men. 
 
 Wilson Webb stayed safely for ten days in the 
 cave, going out for exercise only at night. During 
 this time, by his kindly, pleasant voice, by the stories 
 he told, and the sweet music he elicited from Ernest's 
 violin, Wilson Webb quite endeared himself to the 
 children, and Leebie was in tears Avhen at last he 
 bade her and Laurie good-bye with the intention of 
 starting very early next morning. 
 
 Now Ernest Elliot was a young fellow that did 
 
THE CONVICT'S TERRIBLE STORY 65 
 
 nothing by halves ; Webb had over a hundred miles 
 yet to walk to the city of C . 
 
 This would take him over a week. So the ques- 
 tion arose how should he subsist all that time. If 
 Ernest had possessed money, Webb would have had 
 it. But he did not. 
 
 " Happy thought ! " he cried all at once. " You 
 shall borrow my violin." 
 
 " Can you really trust me with it ? " 
 
 " That I can and will," said the brave boy. 
 
 "Well, I shall take it, and I sliall, send or bring 
 it back ; and never while I live shall I forget to 
 pray Heaven to bless you for all your goodness to 
 me." 
 
 Before daylight next morning the ex-convict 
 Webb was ten good miles from the cave on the 
 moor, and that very forenoon, in a little rustic vil- 
 lage, a crowd stood around him to listen to the 
 magic sounds he elicited from Ernest's violin, and 
 he soon had enough money to keep him for one day 
 at least. 
 
 And so, from village to village, da}'' by day, he jour- 
 neyed on. Not directly north now, however ; for he 
 had determined not to approach his own city, where 
 so many might know him, until his hair had once 
 more grown long. 
 
 The story of his wanderings as an itinerant 
 fiddler would fill a volume ; for he was often taken 
 off the street into private houses, where parties 
 were being given. This paid well, and his perform- 
 
^ THE CONVICT'S TERRIBLE STORY 
 
 ance on his pet instrument was everywhere greatly 
 admired. 
 
 Towards Christmas he was within fifteen miles of 
 
 C , and now he had to be doubly cautious, and 
 
 therefore he only appeared on the streets of villages 
 after dark. 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 
 THE CONFESSION 
 
 "Be thou a spirit of health or goblin damned, 
 Be thy intents wicked or charitable, 
 Thou comest in such a questionable shape, 
 That I will speak to thee." — Shakespeare. 
 
 " My guilt is all before thee spread, 
 Thou awful spirit of the dead." — Anon. 
 
 Wilson Webb's friend Peters was passing quietly 
 
 along a rather dark street in C one night when a 
 
 hand was placed on his shoulder, and, looking quickly 
 round, behold ! there stood beside him a tallish man, 
 in a slouch hat and with a heavy, dark beard. 
 
 He carried under his arm, in a green baize bag, a 
 fiddle. 
 
 " Peters, dear boy, you will not know me, but I am 
 Webb, the ex-convict — " 
 
 There was right hearty handshaking now, after 
 which Peters said: — 
 
 " Come with me to my private room, where we can 
 talk unmolested. We can gain admittance by a side 
 door." 
 
 •' One single question first, Peters. Is Madeleine 
 alive and well?" 
 
 "She is, my dear fellow, and she has not forgot- 
 67 
 
68 THE CONFESSION 
 
 ten you. We have all along believed in your inno- 
 cence, and what is more, in the guilt of the unhappy 
 creature Robson," 
 
 As soon as they entered the private room, Wilson 
 Webb laid aside his false beard. 
 
 "Why," cried Peters, shaking him once more by 
 the hand, "you are not a bit altered." 
 
 "And yet," said Webb, "the sufferings I have 
 endured would have turned many a man into a rav- 
 ing maniac." 
 
 " Well, I trust they are over now. But you appear 
 to me like one come back from the dead." 
 
 " I have come from worse than death." 
 
 "But are you aware, Wilson, that in yesterday's 
 paper it is reported that you were captured in a 
 wood two days ago, after a fierce resistance, and so 
 severely wounded that you died in two hours' time?" 
 
 " I have not read it, but the authorities have evi- 
 dently done this to cloak their incapacity to secure 
 the escaped convict." 
 
 "Well, Webb, I see my way to make something 
 out of this, if you will be guided by me." 
 
 "I shall do whatever you advise me. And now, 
 tell me, is Robson still in your firm? " 
 
 " No, no, no ; he has left over a 3'ear. His gam- 
 bling propensities led him to drink. He is now liv- 
 ing in mean lodgings, no one knows how, only that 
 he sells tips, and is seldom ever sober." 
 
 " Does he believe me dead ? " 
 
 " Yes, and that is wdiat I am coming to. I visited 
 
THE CONFESSION 69 
 
 him j-esterday with some jellies mother gave me, and 
 found him ill in bed, and almost delirious. 
 
 ''Wilson Webb," he continued, "I have a plan. 
 But first I must consult the doctor ; for the fright I 
 should like to give Robson might kill the wretch 
 outright, and this is no part of my intention." 
 
 Dr. Scrivener, though a youngish man, was an 
 ardent student of psychology, and when Peters told 
 him in confidence all his friend Webb's sad story 
 from the beginning till now, and what he intended 
 to do, he entered into his plans with heart and soul. 
 
 For the bold young doctor saw an article in the 
 British 3Iedical Journal looming in the near future, 
 with perhaps honour and glory and a practice in Lon- 
 don to follow. 
 
 In a day or two, then, after Wilson Webb's first 
 visit to Peters' rooms, Scrivener and he made their 
 way to the drunkard's den. 
 
 There lay Robson with a face that was ghastly 
 white, with dark, dilated eyes that had in them the 
 look of a hunted wild beast, with his thin hands 
 clutching at the coverlet, and perspiring at every 
 pore. 
 
 He knew the doctor and Peters, however, and tried 
 to sit up in bed to give them a welcome, but fell back 
 on the pillows helpless. 
 
 "What a terrible night I have had!" he cried. 
 "No sleep, no sleep, or if I closed my eyes for a 
 moment it was but to awaken next moment shriek- 
 ing from a fearful dream. And the room and the 
 
■JO THE CONFESSION 
 
 very bed were crowded with creeping, crawling, slimy 
 things, that gazed at me piteously, pityingly. Tell 
 me, doctor, tell me, shall I get over this, or must I 
 die?" 
 
 " I shall be better able to tell you to-night," said 
 Dr. Scrivener, with his finger on the man's pulse. 
 "We have brought you some magazines and news- 
 papers. You had better try to read. It will help to 
 steady your nerves by keeping your mind always in 
 the same groove." 
 
 " Here," said Peters, " is the account of the death 
 of your old friend, the forger. I will read it." 
 
 " No ! no ! no ! " shrieked Robson. 
 
 But Peters read it, nevertheless. 
 
 It was a fearfully graphic sketch. 
 
 "Oh! Oh! Oh!" groaned Robson, "and I killed 
 him — I killed him ! I mean," he said, " that I should 
 not have appeared. That is all. That is all." 
 
 " Well," said Scrivener, " I will call to-night." 
 
 When they did call, they left Wilson Webb just 
 outside the door, and after they had talked a little 
 with the sick man, whom they found calmer, Webb 
 came slowly stalking in, leaned his elbow on the 
 mantelpiece, and turned his dark sad eyes towards 
 Robson. 
 
 "Look! look!" shrieked the latter. "'Tis he. 
 'Tis he. Take him away ! Oh, take him off ! There 
 is blood upon his brow." 
 
 " Come, come, my good fellow. I must give you 
 opium and send you to sleep if you carry on like 
 
THE CONFESSION 7 1 
 
 this. There is no one here save Mr. Peters and 
 myself." 
 
 But Robson had raised himself on the bed now. 
 
 " Speak, Webb ! Speak ! " he cried. " What brings 
 your spirit here?" 
 
 "I come to haunt you. Nevermore shall I leave 
 you, night nor day. You have encompassed my 
 ruin, and you know it. Only a confession from 
 you, that shall clear me before my friends and rela- 
 tives, is the price of my absence." 
 
 " Do you hear him ? Do you hear him?" 
 
 Robson was appealing to the doctor. 
 
 " We hear nothing, we see nothing. Come, come, 
 you must lie down and try to compose yourself. 
 We are going now, but will soon return, and I shall 
 give you an opiate then." 
 
 " Take him with you ! " the wretched man shrieked. 
 "Take him, oh, take him!" 
 
 They went quietly out, but stopped just outside, 
 where tliey could hear all. 
 
 " I confess. I confess, Wilson ; this is my dying 
 confession, and, oh, may Heaven forgive me! Yes, it 
 was I who forged the cheque. I am your mur- 
 derer." 
 
 Poor Webb bowed his head. He had placed both 
 hands over his face, and the tears were gushing 
 through his fingers. 
 
 He sank into a chair. 
 
 " I will go soon," he said, " and I promise not to 
 harm you." 
 
72 THE CONFESSION 
 
 Robson now seemed to fall into a kind of trance, 
 from which he did not awake until a magistrate came 
 with Dr. Scrivener and Peters and proceeded at once 
 to take his deposition. The confession was written 
 down by a clerk. It was made in simple yet graphic 
 language, yet the depth of the man's guilt horrified 
 all who heard it. 
 
 But the man was calmer after all was over. The 
 doctor pricked his arm now, inserting under the skin 
 a few drops of fluid, and in a minute's time the 
 wretch was sound asleep. 
 
 When Scrivener came next morning, the nurse told 
 him the patient had passed a good night. He was 
 sensible, but very weak. 
 
 He adhered to his confession, however, and in a 
 few days' time he was able to be removed to prison. 
 
 Before the judge, and in a crowded court, poor 
 Wilson himself being there, he repeated all he had 
 already confessed and even gave additional details, 
 and when asked if he considered that there were any 
 extenuating circumstances in his case, he replied in 
 a firm voice : — 
 
 "No, no; none. Gambling has been my ruin; 
 that is all. I ask my old friend's pardon and his 
 prayers. But I desire nothing better than to be de- 
 clared guilty, and to work out whatever punishment 
 or sentence the law shall inflict. While doing so, I 
 shall be calmer in mind than I have been for many 
 a long sad year." 
 
THE CONFESSION 73 
 
 And so the gambler, the forger and drnnkard, 
 passes out of our story, and 1 know not that he will 
 appear agahi at all ; for soon our scenes and advent- 
 ures must change, and we want no black spot to 
 blur the picture of young and happy lives. 
 
 Well, the old firm reinstated Wilson Webb, but 
 gave him higher wages than previously, and in a few 
 months he was his own happy self once more. But 
 he added to his salary by playing as a violinist at 
 many a concert. He did not forget to return young 
 Ernest Elliot's violin, for he had hired a good one, 
 and was soon rich enough to purchase it. 
 
 But when Madeleine confessed one night that she 
 more than cared for him, Wilson's cup of bliss was full. 
 
 This is not a love_ story, or I should tell the reader 
 more. I may just say, however, that Wilson deter- 
 mined to make riches or, at all events, enough of the 
 world's "gear" to enable him to marry. 
 
 This he could never do at home, and so his thoughts 
 soon turned to lands beyond the sea. 
 
 There was nothing on eai'tli he would not do or 
 endure in the hope of being able to provide a home 
 for Madeleine ; and a year or two, he told her, would 
 soon pass by. 
 
 Of course, womanlike, she could but weep, and her 
 tears were her only reply to his proposal. 
 
 Yes, Wilson Webb would emigrate. He was still 
 in the summer of his youth. "Time had not cropped 
 the roses from his cheeks, though sorrow long had 
 washed them.'' 
 
74 THE CONFESSION 
 
 He somehow felt sure that he would succeed. A 
 chance, he told himself, was all he needed. Ah, 
 well ! perhaps. Anyhow, it is true what Bulwer 
 Lytton, novelist, has told us ; namely, that 
 
 " In the lexicon of youth, which fate reserves 
 For a bright manhood, there is no such word 
 As Fail." 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 
 TO THE LAND OP THE WEST 
 
 " To the West ! to the West! to the land of the free! 
 Where mighty Missouri rolls down to the sea ; 
 Where the young may exalt and the aged may rest, 
 Away, far away, to the land of the ^Vest ! " 
 
 When Wilson Webb landed at New York, after 
 a somewhat long but really restful voyage, it was 
 with no very fixed notion as to what he should do. 
 But this plucky young fellow was very far indeed 
 from being one of those easy-going, slow-minded 
 people who can live quietly and contentedly for 
 any length of time in the expectation of something 
 turning up. Such men as these are not the salt of 
 the earth ; on the contrary, they are a positive clog 
 to the earth and, figuratively speaking, do their best 
 to prevent it from going round. 
 
 No, Wilson Webb determined to make something 
 turn up. He had not a very great deal of money, it 
 is true, but he had the next best thing to wealth ; 
 namely, a light and hopeful heart. And he had, 
 moreover, excellent credentials. 
 
 Being strong and healthy, and hardly yet twenty- 
 five years of age, time was not of ver}- great moment 
 to him. That was one reason why he had come out 
 
 75 
 
76 TO THE LAND OF THE WEST 
 
 to the West in a somewhat slow ship, rather than 
 with an ocean greyhound. The other was, that it 
 was cheaper. The vessel was laden with emigrants 
 forward, most of whom came on board at Queenstown, 
 from Cork and the country round about. Poor, 
 half-starved-looking Irish folks ; the men carrying 
 bundles, thinly clad, with holes in their clothes where 
 never a hole should be ; some with brimless hats, 
 black pipes, and shillalahs ; the women carrying 
 nothing, but with white pinched faces, and little bits 
 of shawls around their heads. 
 
 Wilson had felt sad and sorry for them. Luckil}^ 
 for himself, he had secured a berth on deck — abaft the 
 quarter-deck in a petty officer's cabin ; for, ex-conviot 
 though he was, and inured to the doubtful amenities 
 of prison lifcv he had never before seen such abject 
 misery and wretchedness as that which for the first 
 few days after putting to sea, existed down below in 
 the steerage. 
 
 Wilson had made a friend of the young surgeon, 
 and he took him to see things. The men's sleeping- 
 berths were off the steerage, and each was simpl}^ two 
 large shelves with a narrow passage between. On 
 these shelves, which were but a little raised above the 
 deck, with a rag or blanket each, the men lay side by 
 side, packed like herrings. Out in the main steerage 
 itself, the deck was covered with men and women in 
 every stage of mal de mer^ and so terrible was the 
 aroma that Wilson was glad, indeed, when he found 
 himself on deck aofain. 
 
TO THE LAND OF THE WEST JJ 
 
 The vessel, however, was well foniid as to victuals, 
 but sick or not sick, every poor soul was bundled on 
 deck every morning, and the hose turned into the 
 steerage for a general wash and scrub down. 
 
 But things soon mended, and then even the steer- 
 age folks Avere not so badly off. At all events, they 
 had, like Wilson himself, hope in their hearts. Were 
 they not leaving poverty and misrule behind them in 
 dear " ould Oirland " ? Were not they and their 
 little ones bound for the new land, 
 
 " Where children are blessings, and he who hath most 
 Hath aid to his fortune and riches to boast " ? 
 
 The steerage passengers, as soon as they got over 
 the horrors of mal de mer, were excellent customers 
 to the beef-tub. Moreover, they kept on deck pretty 
 well all day long, which showed their excellent sense. 
 
 On fine evenings, Wilson Webb would tune his 
 fiddle and, going forward, seat himself somewhere 
 about the fo'c's'le, and the poor Irish people crowded 
 round him. 
 
 When he played " The Last Rose of Summer " or 
 " The Wearing of the Green," his listeners made no 
 attempt to hide their tears ; indeed, it was no uncom- 
 mon thing to see some grey-haired woriian throw her- 
 self into her daughter's arms and sob aloud. And 
 even the men themselves were but little less affected. 
 For they were leaving behind them all they held dear 
 
 in life. 
 
 " Farewell, for T must leave thee, 
 ]\Iy own, my native shore, 
 
yS TO THE LAND OF THE WEST 
 
 And doom'd in foreign lands t' dwell, 
 
 May never see thee more. 
 For laws, our tyrant laws, have said 
 
 That seas must roll between 
 Old Erin and her faithful sons, 
 
 Who love to wear th« green." 
 
 Ah ! but Wilson Webb knew how to change all 
 this, to rekindle hope in every breast and cause those 
 poor, patriotic people to smile through their tears ; 
 so he would dash into a merry, blood-stirring jig. 
 
 What a scene that was, now ! What a tribute to 
 the power of music ! 
 
 "Hooch! Hooch! Hurrah! Hurrah!" Hats 
 were waved, shillalahs twirled, while old and young, 
 even the children, joined that mad and mazy dance, 
 till all were ready to drop Avith fatigue. Then the 
 music ceased, and all was quiet once more. 
 
 But one beautiful evening so excited were they, 
 that they must seize the fiddler and march three 
 times round the deck with him, carrying him shoulder- 
 high. 
 
 Well, Wilson Webb told himself he was going to 
 feel quite at home in America ; he had a bold front, 
 was willing to work and defy any difficulties he was 
 likely to encounter. 
 
 New York is really a go-ahead place. The business 
 population there do not go to sleep on their legs, as 
 they seem to on Fleet Street and the Strand. New 
 Yorkers do everything quickly; they walk smartl}^ 
 they eat quickl}^ drink quickly, and think quickly. 
 And Wilson Webb Avould speedily have caught this 
 
TO THE LAXD OF THE WEST 79 
 
 electric fever of life, even if lie had not had it 
 before. 
 
 He managed to get into good but cheap lodgings 
 on the very day he landed, and that same afternoon 
 he sallied forth to make a circuit of some of the iirst- 
 class business houses. 
 
 Wilson was ambitious. 
 
 Ambition, within due bounds, is a glorious thing, 
 and I like to see it in the young. True, they may 
 never altogether secure their object, but the attempt 
 to do so will carry them higher, anyhow, than they 
 would otherwise have been had they contented them- 
 selves with crawling instead of flying. 
 
 If you aim an arrow at the moon, 3'ou won't hit it. 
 True, but your arrow will go higher far than if it had 
 been aimed at a bush of broom. 
 
 Well, every city merchant talked kindl}-- enough 
 to Wilson, but they were sorry that at present, etc., 
 — just the well-worn old formula. 
 
 So he had no luck for several days. 
 
 He didn't lose heart, however. 
 
 He did as Captain Webb did, — when swimming 
 across the channel, he just kept pegging away. 
 
 Now some may tell you, reader, that the Americans 
 want to keep all America to themselves, and that they 
 have no wish to encourage the Britisher, or to give 
 him work. This is nonsense. If a Xew York mer- 
 chant believes it would be to his advantage to engage 
 the services of a deserving young fellow, he will cer- 
 tainly not stop to inquire into his nationality. 
 
8o TO THE LAND OF THE WEST 
 
 And SO in a splendid office which he entered one 
 forenoon, Wilson found a white-haired old gentleman 
 who frankly told him he liked his looks and would 
 gladly give him a trial. 
 
 " If you prove worthy," he said, " I shall advance 
 you a step in a week or two." 
 
 " A thousand thanks, sir ! But now before actually 
 engaging me, I should like you to know a little more 
 of my story. I am an ex-convict sir." 
 
 " Jow an ex-convict ! You!" 
 
 The old man looked at him incredulously, and 
 then burst into a hearty laugh. 
 
 "Could I see you in private, sir, for just a few 
 minutes ? " 
 
 " Yes, certainly ; come into my little den here." 
 
 Before they left that little den, Wilson Webb had 
 told all his sad story. The merchant was deeply 
 interested. 
 
 He shook the young man by the hand. 
 
 " How you must have suffered ! " he said ; " but I 
 must tell you straight, that your conduct has quite won 
 my heart, and you must look upon me as a friend." 
 
 Wilson Webb left the beautiful office walkinsf 
 upon air. That was how he felt, at all events. 
 
 He entered upon his duties the very next day. 
 
 At the end of a week he had another interview 
 with Mr. Slatten. 
 
 " I'm going to put you to another desk," he said ; 
 " it will be a more responsible post, but it will also be 
 far more remunerative." 
 
TO THE LAND OF THE WEST 8 1 
 
 So, to his great joy, Wilson was promoted. 
 
 He did his duty too. 
 
 But his lodgings, though poor, were comfortable, 
 and the old landlady kind ; so he stuck to them, his 
 object being to save as much money as he possibly 
 could, then send for ^Madeleine. 
 
 ***** 
 
 One day in early spring Laurie and Leebie had 
 gone early to the cave on the moor, because as soon 
 as Ernest arrived they meant to spend quite a long 
 time at the water's side. 
 
 Neddy had, for some reason or another which he 
 would not reveal, taken quite a fancy to the squire's 
 young son, and as soon as his own young folks were 
 settled at the cave, he used to amble off to the distant 
 wood to meet Ernest. He was always accompanied 
 by little Sir Duncan Currie, and very important and 
 serious the wee dog looked ; but whether he went to 
 look after Neddy or only for companionship, it would 
 be impossible to say. 
 
 Well, on this particular morning Ernest came rid- 
 ing towards the cave at the gallop, the wee terrier 
 barking for joy. It was evident there was news of 
 some sort to tell. 
 
 " A great, big, long letter from Wilson Webb," said 
 Ernest, dismounting. "And there is one for you 
 inside it, Leebie, and one for you too, Laurie." 
 
 So these youngsters did not go to the river that 
 day as soon as they had purposed, because those let- 
 ters were all to be read, not once, but several times. 
 
82 TO THE LAND OF THE WEST 
 
 They were so instructive, and so jolly and joyful. 
 Then Leebie had to read Laurie's, and Ernest's also, 
 and the boys read hers ; in fact, everybody read 
 everybody else's, and there was much talk about 
 them afterwards. 
 
 " How I should like to go to America ! " said 
 Ernest. 
 
 " And I," said Laurie. 
 
 " And I too," said Leebie. 
 
 Ernest Elliot was silent for a short time. 
 
 Ernest was thinking. He was not given to much 
 of that sort of thing, it is true. But at present he 
 was gazing at the crackling logs on the hearth, with 
 dreamy eyes, and evidently in a fit of abstraction. 
 
 " Suppose," he said abruptly, at last, " we don't 
 go fishing this forenoon, only just to, catch a few for 
 dinner. Suppose we leave fishing, on a large scale, 
 till afternoon. " 
 
 " And what shall we do with ourselves till dinner 
 time ? " said Laurie. 
 
 " Oh, you are to come with me. I want to show 
 you my estate." 
 
 " Your estate ? " 
 
 " Yes," said Ernest, laughing. " I have told you 
 before that I was the youngest son. Well, my 
 brothers all pop in before me and would have every- 
 thing, the great hall and all, if poor father were to 
 die. But he won't for many, many years to come. 
 Well, I know he loves me quite as much as George 
 or Dempsey or Harold ; so I was not surprised when 
 
TO THE LAND OF THE WEST 83 
 
 lie took me with liim yesterday 011 a far ride to the 
 outside boundaries of the estate. 
 
 " ' Do you see that farm,' he said, pointing 
 to okl Wigmore's house, 'and the half-tilled land 
 around it?' 
 
 " ' Yes,' I replied wonderingly. 
 
 " ' Well,' said father, ' it is only about a hundred 
 acres, but it is all yours. For that is^iot entailed.' 
 
 "I almost cried with joy, and rode nearer to him 
 that I might press his hand. 
 
 " ' But,' he added, ' you must go to sea first, or go 
 somewhere or other to fight and battle with the world, 
 and make some money ; for I have none to give you. 
 Then you can return and settle down here, and shoot 
 and fish and hunt and do just as you please.' And 
 now, Laurie, let us be off and have a look at my 
 estate." 
 
 Well, Leebie and Ernest rode on Bobbie and Ned, 
 but Laurie much preferred to run with the dogs. 
 
 They arrived at last, after crossing several streams, 
 in a beautiful rolling bit of country, and got high up 
 on a hill-top. 
 
 "The farm standing yonder," said Ernest, "is 
 indeed a tumble-down old place, but when I make 
 money, I'll build a beautiful house on the rising 
 banks of the little lake yonder ; and there I shall 
 keep a boat. I will till the arable land. I shall 
 have a nice park, but the woods and the trees and 
 hills shall all be untouched and sacred. Won't that 
 be lovely, Leebie ? " he added. 
 
84 TO THE LAND OF THE WEST 
 
 " Oh," she cried, in raptures, " I think I see it 
 all ! " 
 
 Mere boy though he was, — barely sixteen, — Ernest 
 was romantic, and he tliought he saw something else 
 in his future that was greatly to add to his joy. But 
 he kept this to himself. 
 
 " Heiglio ! " he sighed, " I have got to make money 
 first." 
 
 "And so must I," said Laurie. "I wonder how 
 we are to do it. " 
 
 " In the West, Laurie — in the West, old man. For 
 father distinctly told me that this country was only 
 for the wealthy, but for the workingman, unless he 
 is a rogue, it is really played out." 
 
 Then they all sat down on the hill and read Wil- 
 son Webb's letters over again once more ; after that 
 they wandered away to the bank of the stream to 
 fish for their dinner. 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 
 WILSON WEBB IX COWBOY LAND 
 
 " Your spiritless stay-at-home shakes his head as he tells you 
 That ambition lures and leads one straight to the grave. 
 Bah ! Wealth is a prize that is well worth the winning, 
 And we all know that Fortune still favours the brave." 
 
 — Anon. 
 
 "Whether Slatten be a Scots name or not, I really 
 do not know ; but of one thing I am certain enough, 
 — Slatten himself was a Scotsman. A self-made man 
 too, and therefore just the individual who was likely 
 to appreciate talent, or cleverness and the determina- 
 tion to do well, in others. 
 
 He lived in a very beautiful house near to Central 
 Park, and was reported to be wealthy. He was 
 upright, however, and had always refused to be one 
 of *' a corner," as it is called. 
 
 If he was Scotch, so were his wife and his seven 
 daughters ! Yes, he had seven, and never a son. 
 Being Scotch, they were, of course, all musical, and 
 when, somehow or other, it leaked out — everything 
 does leak out in America — that Wilson Webb was a 
 violinist, Slatten invited him frequently to the house 
 and Mrs. Slatten made quite a pet of him. 
 
 The youngest daughter was nineteen, and really a 
 85 
 
86 WILSON WEBB IN COWBOY LAND 
 
 pretty girl. The eldest must have been six and 
 thirty, though she "made up" well. 
 
 Not one of them was married, but from the many 
 dinner and garden parties given, it was evident 
 enough that their parents would have been glad to 
 place them. 
 
 Wilson Webb soon got to like Miss Julia Slatten. 
 There really was something winning about her, and 
 something that at times reminded him of Madeleine. 
 Was he likely to forget his English love ? No, no ; 
 this I dare not believe. But I do believe that had he 
 made up to Julia, his suit would have been favourably 
 received, and he might have calculated on becoming 
 a partner in the lirm of Slatten, Limited. 
 
 Yes, everything leaks out in New York, and Wil- 
 son needn't have been surprised when, one evening 
 a smart-looking young man with a note-book called 
 at his humble lodgings and announced himself as one 
 of the chief reporters of the Weekly Hopper. " Just 
 dropped in," he said affably, " to extract a few notes 
 from you for our far-famed weekly." 
 
 " You certainly do me high honour," returned Wil- 
 son ; "but on what subject, pray?" 
 
 " Oh, you are an ex-convict, I hear. I want you 
 to tell me something about life in British prisons. 
 They will be of intense interest to our readers, and 
 help to raise our circulation considerably." 
 
 " And, of course, you will pay handsomely for these 
 notes, that are bound to raise your circulation ? " 
 
 " Ah ! Waal, now, we don't usually do that sort 
 
WILSON WEBB IN COWBOY LAND 8y 
 
 of thing, but, in your case, if four or five dollars are 
 of any use, we — " 
 
 He never finished the sentence, because Wilson 
 was holding the door open for him. 
 
 " I am pleased to wish you a very good-night," 
 he said. 
 
 The reporter pleaded. 
 
 Wilson was obdurate. 
 
 But next evening, the young fellow had a visit 
 from a man of a very different stamp ; a quiet, 
 white-haired gentleman, with pleasant manners and 
 soldierly aspect. 
 
 After introducing himself, he said quietly : — 
 
 " You had a visit last evening from young Puffer, 
 of the Hopper, who tried to draw you. Just like 
 the Hopper s confounded cheek, and Fm just real 
 glad you gave him the cold shoulder. 
 
 " But," he added, " the subject of convict life in 
 England would be an excellent draw. If you con- 
 sent to give a course of interesting and exciting lect- 
 ures here, I will run you. I will pay all expenses, 
 and give you good remuneration, certain, and a big 
 share in the gate-money." 
 
 Wilson's eyes sparkled with delight. He never 
 had lectured, it is true. But his appearance was 
 fetching and his voice was good. So a bargain was 
 soon struck ; and that very night he began to write 
 his lectures. 
 
 So full was he of his subject, and so thickly did 
 old memories of the sufferings he had endured crowd 
 
88 WILSON WEBB IN COWBOY LAND 
 
 in upon him as he wrote, that he was surprised at 
 the speed his pen attained. 
 
 Mr. Leader took the lectures away when finished, 
 and had them type-written. 
 
 Then he got Wilson to read them privately to 
 him, or one of them, and gave him many useful 
 hints on delivery and deportment ; and Wilson was 
 a willing and a very apt pupil. 
 
 CONVICT LIFE IN ENGLAND. 
 
 BY 
 
 AN EX-CONVICT. 
 
 It made a very fetching placard indeed, and, as 
 Americans dearly love everything that is new and 
 interesting, the tickets were all sold in a day or two. 
 
 The lecture series was a great success, and all the 
 newspapers gave a good review of them, praising 
 the ex-convict who had endured so much, though 
 innocent, and hitting England, or rather Britain, I 
 should say, as hard as they knew how to, for her 
 cruelty and her unjust laws. Only the Hopper 
 came out with a scathing article, and had the 
 audacity to say, they doubted not, if justice were 
 meted out to him, Wilson Webb would be serving 
 
 out the rest of his time at P instead of trying 
 
 to star it in the great metropolis of the United 
 States. 
 
 Mr. Leader himself read this article to Webb as 
 they dined together at the Westminster Hotel. 
 
 The young man laughed. 
 
WILSON WEBB IN COWBOY LAND 89 
 
 "We don't take any notice of such journalistic 
 sputterings in England," he said. 
 
 "Ah! but, my boy, you must here. And if you 
 do as I tell you, I see my way to make capital out 
 of it." 
 
 " Shall I have to shoot the editor, then ? " 
 
 " No ; but you must lash yourself to your little 
 guns, in case the editor tries to have a shot at you." 
 
 " Shall I have to mop up the floor M'ith him, then, 
 and stand him on his head in the corner?" 
 
 "No; that is Texas style, and might do even 
 here, but I'd prefer you to do something thoroughly 
 English, and therefore original, and so I propose a 
 dog whip." 
 
 ****** 
 
 The editor of the Hopper was alone in his office 
 when Wilson Webb entered. 
 
 The interview was short but painful, particularly 
 so for the editor. 
 
 "Did you write that scurrilous article, sir?" 
 
 The editor confessed, but tried to open his desk 
 in order to reach his guns. 
 
 Wilson struck down the lid with his strong fist, 
 actually shattering it, for he was an athlete. Then 
 he sprang nimbly at his man, threw him down, stool 
 and all, and proceeded to administer chastisement 
 such as he had never administered to a man before, 
 far less a dog. 
 
 Leader was just outside, and had taken good care 
 to inform the people wliat was going on ; and when 
 
90 WILSON WEBB IN COWBOY LAND 
 
 they heard the editor's screams, they hooted and 
 jeered, and cheered as well, especially when Wilson 
 himself stepped quietly out, and stopped a few 
 seconds to light a cigarette. 
 
 There was no policeman anywhere near. Mr. 
 Leader was a good general. 
 
 But every newspaper had a bit about the affair 
 next day. The conduct of this brave Englishman 
 was highly extolled, and the rest of the series of 
 lectures was more successful than even the first. 
 
 But Mr. Leader was not going to give him up 
 just yet, and determined to run him in the cities of 
 the South. 
 
 " I'm really very sorry to part with you,"' said 
 kind-hearted Mr. Slatten, "-but it will be for your 
 good ; and I shall live in hopes that when you have 
 finished lecturing, you will come back to us." 
 
 Poor Julia was in tears when Wilson left her. 
 Would she never, never see him more ? Well, who 
 could answer that? 
 
 I think it was in Philadelphia, Baltimore, and 
 Washington that Wilson's lectures were most ap- 
 preciated, and by the course he managed to save 
 nearly a thousand pounds. 
 
 " I think," said Leader, one morning at breakfast, 
 " we had better finish off at San Francisco." 
 
 " Well," said Wilson, " I shall be pleased to, but 
 first and foremost, I should like to see a little cowboy 
 life in, say. New Mexico. And I will tell you why : 
 American shows and lectures on wild western life, 
 
WILSON WEEP, IN COWBOY LAND 91 
 
 illustrated with the lantern, are popular in England. 
 AVell, having mastered my sul)ject, I purpose going 
 back to my own tight little island, having made a bit 
 of money, and marryiug the dearest, sweetest girl on 
 earth." 
 
 " Bravo, lad ! You're a true-born Briton, and 
 your intention speaks well for the goodness of your 
 lieart, though it ain't what we Americans would call 
 business." 
 
 " Pray explain." 
 
 " Well, poor little Julia Slatten is deeply in love 
 with you, and by marr3ang her you would soon be a 
 partner in the big firm. The subject is worth con- 
 sideration." 
 
 " My dear Leader," said Wilson, almost solemnly, 
 " were I to debate the subject with myself, even for 
 a minute, I should be untrue to ni}'- God, untrue 
 to myself, and untrue to the girl I left behind me. 
 Pray say no more." 
 
 Leader looked at him w^onderingly, but said 
 nothing. 
 
 ***** 
 
 It was shortly after this, that Leader and Wilson 
 Webb parted. They had been very great friends, 
 because each respected even the idiosyncrasies as 
 well as the opinions of the other. And I do think 
 that a man's or a boy's opinions are his private prop- 
 erty, and no one else has any business to trespass 
 thereon, any more than he has to enter his garden 
 and trample down his flowers. 
 
92 WILSON WEBB IN COWBOY LAND 
 
 Leader went north. Wilson Webb went west in 
 search of adventures, and we must follow him. 
 
 He took with him a beautiful and instantaneous 
 photographic apparatus; not large, but most true 
 and efficient. He wanted to get pictures for the lan- 
 tern, and determined that they should be true to the 
 life. 
 
 Besides the camera, Wilson took with him a good 
 light rifle and a pair of excellent six-shooters, but 
 no fowling-piece. " Your cowboy," Leader told him, 
 " despised what he called a ' scatterer,' and most of 
 them are excellent shots." 
 
 All the money he did not actually require, Wilson 
 put in a safe bank. He dressed himself simply as an 
 Englishman, in shooting-jacket and cap, with strong 
 boots ; but the summer was alread}^ drawing to a 
 close, so he did not forget to furnish himself with 
 clothing that would stand all the storms and rigours 
 of the Rocky Mountains, and defy even a blizzard 
 itself. 
 
 Wilson Webb was nothing unless romantic. As a 
 mere lad he had often read about the cowboys and 
 the cowboy country, and one of his chief delights 
 
 while residing in the city of C , long before evil 
 
 daj's had fallen upon him, was to borrow or hire a 
 good horse — he called the nag a broncho — and go 
 for a long ride across the bare open country or 
 wolds. He thus became a most expert and daring 
 rider. Moreover, he was a good shot either with rifle 
 or revolver, and when only sixteen had come in 
 
WILSON WEBB IN COWBOY LAND 
 
 93 
 
 second at a volunteer review. Young Wilson, on 
 more occasions than one, had attempted to lasso 
 farmers' shorthorns. But his practice was certainly 
 nothing to be proud of. Once, and once only, he 
 succeeded in hitching on to a strong and agile cow. 
 
 That cow did not let him forget it. She tore 
 away at a terrific rate, and finally not only pulled 
 him out of his seat, saddle and all, but draorored him 
 some considerable distance across country. The 
 broncho followed. He evidently thought it was all 
 a part of the performance. But when Wilson re- 
 turned to C , he was very sore indeed, and a 
 
 shilling hardly covered his expenses for sticking- 
 plaster alone. 
 
 Well, at four and twenty he was just as fond of 
 adventure as he had been at fourteen, and he cal- 
 culated he would meet with one or two in the little 
 town he finally brought up at. 
 
 I may say at once, however, that he did not find 
 the cowboys the irreclaimable, wild, and reckless 
 men he had read about. 
 
 A few were madcaps, it is true, but many were far 
 more noble and honest and straightforward, than 
 his own countrymen who belonged to the working 
 classes. 
 
 AVilson had travelled most of the journey in the 
 really old-fashioned way ; namely, by waggon. He 
 passed by many a ranch and stayed for the night at 
 many a small town. But all were too civilised for 
 his notions. 
 
94 WILSON WEBB IN COWBOY LAND 
 
 So westward, and westward ever, he went, until 
 at long last he cast anchor at a queer little town 
 with a queer little name ; to wit, " TFti're-all-here." ^ 
 Why it should have been called so, I have not the 
 remotest notion. It was a town of log or turf shan- 
 ties and houses ; badly lighted, if, indeed, it could 
 be said to be lighted at all. 
 
 The principal buildings in it were the gaol, the 
 sheriff's house, the office of the Independe7it, the 
 doctor's hut, and the drinking saloon. 
 
 Wilson arrived about midday, while the sun shone 
 down on this Rocky Mountain slope with a heat that 
 seemed enough to melt lead. 
 
 He was riding a really good horse, and the waggon 
 was coming slowly up behind. He wore a red Gari- 
 baldi shirt and knickerbockers, his head covered with 
 a broad-brimmed felt sombrero, lined with green 
 leaves. 
 
 Probably he ought to have called on the sheriff 
 first, but he didn't know there was an}-" such func- 
 tionary here. So he asked for the name and office 
 of the newspaper, and from the group of wiry- 
 looking, picturesque men, one stepped forth and 
 stood by his saddle. 
 
 " We air the editor," he said, extending his hand, 
 " and if yer means to stay among us for a time, we'll 
 do our best to put ye up to the ropes. See ? " 
 
 " I do, and many thanks. I'll dismount, and lead 
 my horse out of the sun." 
 
 1 The natives always put the emphasis on the "ire." 
 
WILSON WEBB IN COWBOY LAND 95 
 
 "As nice a broncho as ever we saw. What say 
 ye, boys ? " 
 
 There was a murmur of assent, and a brown- 
 faced youth stepped up and offered to see to the 
 nag. 
 
 Wilson willingly gave him up. 
 
 " Boys," continued the editor of the Independent^ 
 "here we have before us a raal stranger. From his 
 talk he is a British, and mebbe a bit of a tender- 
 foot. Most Britishers are. Never mind; we have 
 a duty before us, and that is to show this green 
 Englishman all the hospitality we can, and all the 
 fun. Now, stranger, shake hands, and come to the 
 saloon. I guess yer neckll steam when ye pour 
 somethinsr down it." 
 
 Well, not only did the editor accompany Wilson 
 to the saloon, but at least a dozen cowboys. He 
 was not one who cared to drink, but he could 
 not turn his back upon such well-meaning hospi- 
 tality. So he swallowed the whisky placed be- 
 fore him, although it went down like fixed 
 bayonets. 
 
 After this he requested the pleasure of standing 
 the cowboys' drinks, round. 
 
 They consulted just for a few moments ; then one 
 tall, handsome fellow laid a great, hard hand on 
 Wilson's shoulder. 
 
 " No, sirree," he said ; " for three days, at least, 
 you'll never attempt to show silver in ' TFc're-all- 
 here.' If ye do, you'll offend us. There ! " 
 
g6 WILSON WEBB IN COWBOY LAND 
 
 "I don't want to do that, I can assure you." 
 After this the talk became general, and Wilson 
 was learning something new every minute. 
 
 That same afternoon he got settled in a very 
 decent "'dobe" house, and thought himself exceed- 
 ingly lucky. 
 
CHAPTER X 
 
 A GREEJSr ENGLISHMAN 
 
 "Let us never judge too harshly, 
 
 Mind, — this life is but a dream, 
 • And all experience tells us 
 
 Folks are seldom what they seem. 
 There's many a sweet, sweet kernel 
 
 Within a rough nut's shell ; 
 And the roughest face a kindly heart may hide, 
 For aught that we can tell." — Anon. 
 
 When the editor of the Weekly Western Indepen- 
 dent entered Wilson's shanty that evening, the young 
 adventurer was very glad to see him, and shook 
 hands right heartily. Then he rolled his fiddle in 
 a soft, silk handkerchief, and placed it in its case. 
 He loved that Strad. of his, far more than he could 
 have loved a baby, and took greater care of it, too. 
 
 "Take the easy-chair, Mr. Whetstone, and try 
 those cigars," said Wilson. 
 
 Well, if one had not been told that it was an easy- 
 chair, one might have been inclined to doubt it. 
 
 The chair was merely a small flour-barrel turned 
 upside down, so that one sat on the bottom of it. 
 But it had a semilunar back fitted to it, and it was 
 upon this that its claim to its title rested. 
 H 97 
 
98 A GREEN ENGLISHMAN 
 
 Whetstone sat down and stretched his legs easily 
 out in front of liim ; then he lit a cigar. 
 
 He was very simpl}', if not picturesquely, dressed. 
 In fact, he wore nothing very much to speak of ; a 
 flannel shirt with its sleeves rolled up over the 
 elbows, a pair of flannel pants rolled up to the 
 knees. Both garments might have been white origi- 
 nally. A pair of canvas shoes graced his feet, and a 
 soft broadbrim his head. But in a belt around his 
 waist, were stuck his guns and a bowie. He had 
 once had a pistol pocket, but that Avas worn out. 
 
 The expression on the man's face, however, was 
 far from unkindly, tliough his jaws were lantern and 
 his brows heavy. 
 
 Wilson handed him a fan for refrigeratory purposes, 
 and to keep the "skeeters" as much at bay as 
 possible. 
 
 But this enterprising editor carried a note-book. 
 
 " I mean, sir," he said, " to come out with a flamer 
 on Saturday. A col. and a half, sir, and it is all to 
 be devoted to Wilson Webb, the stranger who has 
 come to spy out the nakedness of our land." 
 
 " Fiddlesticks ! " said Webb, " I don't see much 
 nakedness about it. I've come here to study your 
 cowboys, and cowboy life in general, and to find 
 some fun and some adventures. 
 
 " And," he added, " when I get back to Merry 
 England, as it is sarcastically called, I mean to give 
 lectures on cowboys, and this same city of ' Were- 
 all-here ' shall be the centre." 
 
A GREEN ENGLISHaiAN 99 
 
 " And in course ye'll lecture and fiddle a piece to 
 us poor benighted sons of the Sierras ? " 
 
 " If it can amuse 3-ou, I will with pleasure." 
 
 "Shake," said Whetstone, holding out his broad 
 brown hand. " I say, young fellow, your heart ain't 
 far out o' plumb. 
 
 "• And now," he added, " I guess we'll have to put 
 in an appearance at the saloon. Just to show we 
 know how to be friendly. The Doc. will be there. 
 The Doc. is a good fellow, and I guess no one ever 
 saw him any the worse for whisky. We'll mebbe 
 meet ten or a dozen of the boys, besides more that'll 
 be playin' poker on the barrel-heads. Do you play 
 draw-poker ? " 
 
 "No," said Wilson; "I play the fiddle." 
 
 " That's about right. Well, if Nate Buster comes 
 any of his games with you, we ourself will back you 
 up." 
 
 "Who is Nate Buster, may I ask?" 
 
 "Nate's right name is Bloomsbury — a daurned 
 sight too good for him, so we call him Buster. 
 Nate's been on the roar for over a week, but he 
 hasn't killed anybody yet. More's the wonder. But 
 mind ye this, sir. Buster is a rare good fellow when 
 he has got anything more'n fifteen inches o' old rye 
 in his stomach. Only, as I said, he's on the roar and 
 may want to tickle a stranger. So I advise you to 
 have your shootiu'-irons handy, in case ye need to 
 kill him. And mind, don't be shy or skeery about 
 it. Nobody'd miss Nate very much, and the Doc. 
 
100 A GREEN ENGLISHMAN 
 
 and we ourself would see ye all straight wi' the 
 sheriff. 
 
 " And now we'll saunter." 
 
 After lighting fresh cigars, they did saunter. 
 
 The saloon was brilliantly lighted. The landlord, 
 a short, stout man with an immense beard, was busy 
 enough dispensing " the pizen," assisted by his wife 
 and pretty little daughter, while the boys, none of 
 whom were more heavily dressed than the editor him- 
 self, were lolling around in every attitude of ease, if 
 not grace. 
 
 " Nominate," said Whetstone. 
 
 " Whisky," said Wilson, though far rather would 
 he have had a glass of cold water. 
 
 A red-faced, but pleasant-looking, man entered just 
 at that moment. He was dressed in spotless white 
 flannels, with rings, and a huge gold chain. 
 
 " Ah ! Doc," cried the editor, " very pleased ! Here 
 is a young fellow all the way from the Breetish islands. 
 Whatll you drink?" 
 
 " Just water to-night." 
 
 " Water ! " 
 
 " Ay. Going to a nasty case." 
 
 He leaned over the bar and patted Lizzie on the 
 cheek. She was evidently a favourite of the doctor's. 
 
 "You'll come to see me, won't you?" he said to 
 Wilson. 
 
 " That I will, wdth great pleasure." 
 
 " Well, good-night, all. See you later on, perhaps." 
 And off he went. 
 
A GREEN ENGLISHMAN lOI 
 
 The boys, glasses in hand, now crowded round 
 Wilson, and his friend, the editor. They did not get 
 much news in this far-off town, a^id wanted to hear 
 Wilson yarn a bit. 
 
 A whole hour passed away pleasantly enough. 
 The boys certainly had dubbed Wilson a ''poor 
 drinker," but he did not mind that a bit. He had 
 made a resolution not to drink and not to play poker, 
 and he told all hands that as plainly as he could 
 speak it. 
 
 But suddenly a kind of awed hush fell over the 
 party and a voice could be heard singing in the dis- 
 tance, and coming ever nearer. It was a maudlin old 
 song. 
 
 " Whisky is the life of me, 
 
 Whisky ! whisky! 
 Whisky killed my brother Bill, 
 Whisky killed old daddy too, 
 But whisky is the life o' me. 
 Whisky for my Johnnie ; 
 
 Hurrah ! Whoop ! 
 
 That "whoop" was a yell, and with it Nate Buster 
 brought up in the doorway of the saloon. 
 
 " Boys, Nate's on the roar ! Whoop ! Boys, 
 Nate's goin' to shoot ! Stand by for hats and heads ! 
 Hurrah ! " 
 
 He had a six-shooter in each hand, and though 
 really not a bad-looking fellow, he appeared very 
 reckless. 
 
 "Who says Nate's hand ain't steady? See that 
 bottle o' old rye on the shelf ? " 
 
102 A GREEN ENGLISHMAN 
 
 Bang ! He fired, and the bottle was decapitated. 
 
 " Put lier on tlie plank, landlord. Nate can pay." 
 
 Then his eye fell upon Wilson Webb, who was 
 leaning on the counter, glass in hand, and looking 
 very cool and unconcerned. 
 
 Nate now changed his tone in a moment. 
 
 '' What ! " he cried, in the wheedling voice of some 
 old woman. " Who have we here ? Some tender- 
 foot? A green Englishman? Eh? Some mother's 
 darling, fresh out from England, home, and beauty ? 
 And how's his little toes, then ? " 
 
 " If you want to know, you shall," said Wilson, 
 calmly; "for, if you don't keep quiet, I'll kick you 
 out." 
 
 Knowing that a terrible row was brewing, every 
 one drew off, and Wilson and Nate stood facing each 
 other. 
 
 " This to Nate ! And from a Breetisher too. 
 Look, you stranger, I was thinkin' o' killin' ye, but 
 I'll give you a chance. You shall dance to amuse 
 the boys, and, if you refuse, I'll blow the whole top 
 o' your head off. Dance ! " 
 
 It is an ugly situation, when one has to look down 
 the barrel of a six-shooter in the hands of a maniac 
 like Nate. 
 
 " Dance ! I'll count six, and fire at seven. 
 
 "One, two, three. Dance, four — " 
 
 He never got any farther. Swift as lightning, 
 Wilson threw his whiskj^ straight in Nate's face, 
 and the bullet fired found a billet in the ceiling. 
 
A GREEN ENGLISHMAN I03 
 
 Next moment the revolvers were wrenched from the 
 drunkard's grasp, and a well-aimed blow between 
 the eyes laid him sprawling on the floor. 
 
 " Bravo, Britisher ! Bravo, Britain I "' shouted the 
 boys. But Nate sprang to his feet, and charged like 
 a bull. 
 
 " I won't hit you any more," cried Wilson, " but 
 out you go. I'll give you Cumberland." 
 
 Nate was but like a schoolboy in that young man's 
 powerful clutch. 
 
 He threw him on the floor first, and held him down 
 for full}^ a minute. 
 
 " That's Donald Dinnie style," he said. " Now for 
 the grand fling." He lifted him up as he spoke. The 
 editor himself opened the door, and Nate was tossed 
 far out into the darkness. 
 
 There lie lay groaning for fully five minutes, and 
 then gathering himself up, crawled quietly liome to 
 his shantj'. He had received enough at the hands of 
 the green Englishman to last him a long time. 
 
 " And now, bo3's," cried Wilson, as all gathered, 
 laughing, round the bar once more, " though, thanks 
 be to Heaven, I never made a bet in m^- life, I'm 
 willing now to wager one of my legs that I can 
 do what Nate Buster couldn't. I'll make you all 
 dance." 
 
 " Done I Done I We'll have the leg, stranger I " 
 
 Wilson simply said, " Excuse me for a minute." 
 
 Then he slipped out, and in a very short time had 
 returned with his fiddle-ease. 
 
I04 A GREEN ENGLISHMAN 
 
 He tuned up and began to play — very slow and 
 pathetic airs at first ; yet the fact that as he played 
 the eyes of nearly every cowboy there filled with 
 tears, proved, I think, that they had hearts as soft 
 as women's within their breasts, rougli and uncouth 
 though they were. 
 
 But Wilson soon changed his tunes. He stood 
 right uj) on the top of a barrel, to be well out of the 
 way when the fun began. And begin it did. 
 
 Not even in Scotland itself was madder, merrier 
 dancing ever seen, and it was kept up for hours, too. 
 
 But Wilson himself got tired at last, and was just 
 about to loosen a peg, when in glided the doctor again. 
 
 " Yes, my case is over. And well over. The old 
 lady has gone to a better world. But lo ! I've been 
 losing all the fun. Here, Lizzie, sweetheart, you and 
 I must have a waltz." 
 
 He lifted the laughing lassie right over the counter 
 as he spoke. Wilson played a dreamland waltz, and 
 no one in the room enjoyed himself more than did 
 the Doc. and his sweet little partner. 
 
 In another hour, all was darkness and silence in 
 that saloon and throughout all the deserted streets 
 of '^ Fe're-all-here " itself. 
 
 There were no lights to be seen anywhere, and in 
 all probability those honest, bold cowboys had gone 
 to bed ; for they had to rise right early every morning. 
 
 But Wilson still sat at his open window. It was 
 a very bright and beautiful night, and his eyes were 
 turned towards the snow-caj)ped mountain range far 
 
A GREEN ENGLISHMAN IO5 
 
 in the west, above which the moon shone in an 
 unclouded sky, with here and there a tiny star. 
 
 It was very silent, though every now and then out 
 yonder on the plains, twixt his house and the hills, 
 he could hear short, yapping barks and even plaintive 
 cries ; but whether these proceeded from bird or from 
 beast, Wilson could not tell. 
 Nor did he care much. 
 
 He sat up to think. He told himself so, at all 
 events. I believe I am right in saying he was a 
 restless kind of a being, this Wilson Webb. There 
 are many such men in the world, and although their 
 lives are not so happy as they would be if they only 
 had more repose about them, still people like these 
 are the salt of the earth, and I doubt if the world 
 would wag long without them. 
 
 " Heigho ! " said Wilson to himself ; but it was not 
 by any means an unhappy sigh. " I've been pretty 
 lucky as yet. No, I haven't made a fortune, but 
 £800 in a bank is a precious good nucleus, and I 
 mean to make it multiply. Well, I'm all alone here 
 in this city with tlie funny name. But those cow- 
 boys don't seem to be half bad fellows. I hope I 
 didn't hurt that poor idiot Nate. I'll go and see him 
 to-morrow morning. 
 
 " I wonder what my friend Peters is doing at this 
 moment. I wonder more what dear Madeleine is 
 doing. Let me see: it will be early morning in 
 England, and those strange boys, Ernest and Laurie, 
 with their sweet wee sister Leeb, will be preparing 
 
I06 A GREEN ENGLISHMAN 
 
 to ride off to the moor. But for tliem I should not 
 be here now. God send that I may yet be able to 
 reward them. Ah ! I really have something to live 
 for, — the boys and Madeleine. 
 
 " Well, after all, what would life be without work ? 
 A dream, a dream ; an idle, useless, empty dream ! 
 I'll off to bed and perhaps I shall dream of a future, 
 that shall be ten times liappier than all the past, as 
 
 well it may." 
 
 ****** 
 
 He threw the end of his cigar out of the window, 
 but he did not close the casement. There was noth- 
 ing much to be dreaded here. Wild beasts, wolves, 
 and bears there might be, far away out yonder in the 
 woods and dingles, at the foot of that terrible moun- 
 tain range, but they kept well aloof from all human 
 habitations. So he had nothing to fear and nothing 
 to annoy, save the mosquitoes. By this time, how- 
 ever, he was inured to tlieir venom, so he fell asleep 
 with their songfs rinfjing' in his ears. 
 
 Wilson was up betimes, and the old dame who 
 " saw to him " brought him a good breakfast. True, 
 the steak was tough, but he was young and hungry, 
 so he did justice to it. 
 
 " Now," he said to himself, " I'll go and see that 
 never-do-well." 
 
 He was directed to Nate's shanty. It was as well 
 known as Nate himself. 
 
 Wilson expected to find him ill in bed. 
 
 Not so ; for Nate liimself opened the door and in- 
 
A GREEN ENTiLISILMAN I07 
 
 vitecl him in. Nate was sober and quiet; clothed 
 and in his right mind. 
 
 " You gave me fits last niglit, old man, and I really 
 deserved it. Shake hands. Come in. I haven't been 
 much in bed. In grief, you see." 
 
 " In grief, Nate ? " 
 
 "Yaas, stranger, in grief." 
 
 He pointed towards a cosy corner, near to the 
 hearth, on which a fire of wood was burning. Here, 
 on a bed of soft hay, with his head on a pillow of 
 the same, lay a beautiful Scottish collie. 
 
 His brown eyes looked positively human, and as 
 Nate knelt beside him, with tears in his eyes, the 
 faithful dog extended his hot, red tongue and licked 
 his master's hand. 
 
 "Tweed is the only real friend I have in the 
 world," said the cowboy, " and if anything happened 
 to him, I shouldn't care to live. I've been up all 
 night with him, though I ain't far from ill myself, 
 and I think he's a trifle better." 
 
 He smoothed the bonnie dog's brow, and Wilson 
 was certain a tear fell thereon. 
 
 " Ah ! stranger," he said, " tlie hardest bit to bear 
 is this. I've so often neglected Tweed when on the 
 roar ! Oh, the accursed drink I But nevermore. No, 
 nevermore ; and if you'll only live Tweed, we'll both 
 be as happy as the birds that sing." 
 
 Wilson had sadly misjudged poor Nate, then ; for 
 surely a man who could so sympathise with a sick 
 and suffering dog must have some good in his heart. 
 What think you, reader? 
 
CHAPTER XI 
 
 A BUCK-JUIMPING EXPERIENCE 
 
 " A horse ! A horse ! My kingdom for a horse ! " 
 
 'Tis true, 'tis pity ; and pity 'tis, 'tis true, that not 
 only in our own country, but in other lands as well, 
 the very best hearted men, and those of the brightest 
 intellect, all too often become slaves of the most fear- 
 ful Fiend that stalks this earth by day or night, and 
 that is Drink. 
 
 'Tis true, moreover, and more's the pity that it 
 is true, that having once fallen, very few ever get 
 up again. They sink lower and lower in the mire, 
 until it closes over their heads, and their eyes are 
 shut in the darkness of death. 
 
 But grief for his noble, faithful dog, seemed really 
 to have worked wonders as far as Nate was con- 
 cerned. He was, to all appearance, a new man. 
 Tweed and he were never separate now, and Nate 
 never forgot to feed him or give him the best water 
 to be procured. 
 
 He did not abandon his visits to the saloon. He 
 was no coward, and came there of an evening just as 
 before. But that poisonous whisky which he used to 
 sing about had no longer an}^ charms for him. 
 
 1 08 
 
A BUCK-,TUMPING EXPERIENCE IO9 
 
 The landlord welcomed him just the same, how- 
 ever; for he spent his money freely enough on others, 
 if not on himself. 
 
 Wilson Webb had not been many weeks in " TF^'re- 
 all-here " before becoming a general favourite. That 
 fiddle of his was in much repute. Moreover, his 
 lectures were a great success ; not financially, of 
 course. He lectured gratuitously, his only reward 
 being the thought that he was giving pleasure to 
 these brave, though half-wild, cowboys ; their rapt 
 attention was his best reward, and their hearty bursts 
 of applause and laughter were to him the greatest 
 reward, and far better than many silver dollars. 
 
 But much of Wilson's time was spent, by day, 
 either in shooting, or riding on the plains, assisting 
 the cowboys with their work. 
 
 Farther to the east civilisation had already put in 
 an appearance, and each man's herd of cattle was 
 fenced in with wire, barbed or otherwise. But here 
 the cattle still roamed free over the prairie, and the 
 owners could only tell their own j^roperty by the 
 brands. 
 
 It was the young calves that had to suffer the 
 torture of branding with the red-hot iron, and cruelty 
 of a revolting character it really seemed to Wilson 
 Webb, who was probably far too tender-hearted to 
 make up as a typical cowboy. 
 
 Nevertheless, he did his best, and if he did not 
 quite succeed, it was not for lack of trying or dint of 
 hard work. 
 
no A BUCK-JUMriNG EXPERIENCE 
 
 Buffalo Bill and his company have made us all 
 familiar with the rig-out of the cowboy, and Wilson 
 took a lesson from those around him and dressed 
 just as they did, although for a long time he and liis 
 strange boots were at daggers drawn. Nor did he 
 altogether relish at first the broad felt hat, but he 
 soon found that in galloping over the plains it was 
 just the right thing in the right place. 
 
 Wilson's broncho continued to carry him splen- 
 didly, and under the kindly tuition of the cowboys 
 he soon learned all the outs and ins of ranch life, 
 even to the roping of the wilder cattle, or throwing 
 the lasso. 
 
 Rightly or wrongly, I have always considered this 
 the very acme of the cowboy's art. 
 
 Well away out eastwards in his journey towards 
 the Rocky Mountains, Wilson had passed many 
 ranches, the very civilisation of which did not please 
 him, although he and his waggoners were well 
 received and kindly treated. But these ranchers had 
 their flocks wired in. They grew grass or hay too, 
 and even grain for their bronchos. There wasn't 
 enough romance here to satisfy the young man, so 
 " Westward ho ! " had ever been his song, and ad- 
 venturous soul that he was, I do not think he ever 
 regretted coming to the strange life of "TFe're-all- 
 here." 
 
 Autumn was coming on now. It was nearing that 
 season whicli the Scots so beautifully express in those 
 words, " Tlie fa' o' the year." 
 
A BUCK-JUMl'ING EXPEKIKXCI-: III 
 
 The town was neither in the north nor south 
 countries, properly speaking, but midway between. 
 But on the ijhiins towards the east it was roup-h 
 enough in all conscience, and picturesque as well, 
 without being actually romantic. 
 
 It was towards tlie everlasting hills and mountains 
 that the romance and beauty, too, abode forever and 
 for aye. 
 
 Out there it is sweet and delightful indeed, to 
 watch the coming of the spring. 
 
 The ancients used to depict the goddess of spring 
 as a beautiful lady with clinging, trailing garments of 
 many bright colours, gliding across the land and scat- 
 tering from her lap flowers of every shape and hue. 
 
 So might we imagine her in the month of April in 
 these far-off hills and in the dells. 
 
 Softer winds are blowing now. Balmy they well 
 may be called; for dreary winter finds no longer a 
 place on the foot-hills, but must climb higher and 
 higher up the bluff sierras. But the melting snows 
 flood all the springs, and the snow that only a month 
 or two ago was falling fast, is now changed into 
 sleet or rain. 
 
 The rain raineth not every day, however ; for there 
 are very many hours of gladsome sunshine, — sun- 
 shine that maketh joyful the heart of many a bird 
 and beast. There are buds now, downy buds, on the 
 silvery bough ; there are dusky green leaves on many 
 a bush and flowering tree. 
 
 Flocks of mallards fly overhead, bound for the far 
 
112 A BUCK-JUMPING EXl'ERIENCE 
 
 north. Willow grouse are everywhere. Many a wild 
 bird 'gins to twitter and to sing, and the woods are 
 carpeted with anemones snow-white and pink, and 
 with the tender blossoms of sorrel. 
 
 And the green on the river banks grows broader 
 and broader, and spreads out all over the land. It is, 
 indeed, a hopeful time. 
 
 The ranch cattle feel it and know it. For the 
 misery and wretchedness of winter is past, and the 
 cow can gladsomely now lead her innocent wee dot 
 of a calf afield. Yet not without danger; for the 
 goddess of spring, who has been scattering bud and 
 burgeon of wild flowers everywhere, has awakened 
 not only harmless wee squirrels and wise-looking 
 mountain rats, but wolves as well, and many an 
 innocent little calf falls a bleeding victim to their 
 ferocity, bravely though the mother may try to de- 
 fend them. Yes, and oftentimes die in defending 
 them. Her carcass then becomes a prey to the wily 
 fox, to the yelping coyote, and swooping eagle. 
 
 But spring has awakened a far more formidable ani- 
 mal, — the grizzly bear. But from the cave in which 
 he has been slumbering, snowed up all the winter, 
 gaunt, bony, and fierce crawls he now. He yawns as 
 he gazes sleepily around him. Yawns and stretches 
 himself. Yet so hungry is he that he will gladly 
 devour even the rattlesnake, which basks yonder on 
 the sun-heated rock. Ah! but he is in luck, for a 
 deer comes by, all unconscious that death, in the 
 shape of that fearsome grizzly, is anywhere so near. 
 
A BUCK-JUMriNG EXPERIENCE 113 
 
 Next moment, the agile creature is seized by the 
 neck or shoulder; the bear is growling and splutter- 
 ing now, and the blood, in little jets and fountains, is 
 "scirping" in all directions. 
 
 But autumn comes. 
 
 The leaves on the trees are crisp and sear ; brown, 
 crimson, or yellow. There is a cooler, clearer, and 
 more bracing atmosphere now. Rain falls ; the grass, 
 burned almost into hay by the fierce heat of the sum- 
 mer's sun, gets gTeener. Antelopes and deer browse 
 here, there, and everywhere. There are bears on the 
 mountains ; there are mallards on every creek and 
 stream ; there are ravens hovering over carcasses 
 of defunct cattle, and they croak and rustle their 
 hard wings as they tear and swallow the putrid 
 flesh. 
 
 Flocks of geese now go southward, and many 
 species of wild birds, the song of which was so 
 sweet and beautiful, follow their example. 
 
 The puma, too, or mountain lion, loves the sun- 
 shine of warmer climates, though he likes it not too 
 hot. He seeks the solitudes of southern forests in 
 autumn, and, hiding in darkling pines, is a nightmare 
 to many a w^andering deer. 
 
 Wilson Webb takes his place now, like an old hand, 
 among the cowboys who seek the plains to " cut out," 
 or assist in a round-up. He has even learned tlie cow- 
 boy's wild shriek or yell, as he goes madly dashing 
 eastwards. It is all so very exciting. 
 
 We have no English sport to be compared with it. 
 I 
 
114 A BUCK-JUMPING EXPERIENCE 
 
 Talk about fox-hunting, why, it is tame in compari- 
 son. 
 
 And what English fox-hunter, I wonder, would 
 care to ride a buck-jumper? Yet the successful 
 management of even these unruly steeds, had been 
 part and parcel of Wilson's cowboy education. 
 
 In their cave on the moorland in far-off England 
 our 3^ounger heroes read with delight a letter de- 
 scribing Wilson's first experience with a buck-jumper, 
 and after she had heard it read, Leebie's bonnie eyes 
 sparkled. 
 
 " Oh," cried the brave little maid, " I'm sure I 
 should like to try a buck-jumper myself I" 
 
 " I got on right enough, dear boj's," ran the epis- 
 tle. " I had patted the beast before I mounted, and 
 whispered something in his ear. I had often noticed 
 the cowboys doing this, but didn't know what they 
 said. 
 
 " What I said, boys, was this : ' You dear, delight- 
 ful old buck-jumper, I love you lots more than I can 
 tell you. But we'll get on ever so much better if 
 3'ou don't buck-jump with me. There's a darling.' 
 
 " Well, lads, my buck-jumper simply threw back 
 his ears, and showed a good deal more of the Avhites 
 of his eyes than I cared to see. 
 
 " On I vaulted, and awa}^ we went. ' Oh,' I said to 
 myself, ' it is going to be easy sailing, after all,' and 
 I patted ni}^ steed on the neck, as we raced pleasantly 
 over the plain. 
 
 " But the darling suddenly changed his mind, and 
 
A BUCK-JUMPING EXPERIENCE 115 
 
 stopped so suddenly that I found myself on his neck, 
 in front of the saddle, anyhow. 
 
 " ' You've got to go off,' he seemed to say ; ' and 
 tlie quicker you are about it, the better I shall be 
 pleased.' 
 
 "I got into the saddle immediately again, stuck 
 the rowels into his side, and being very angry, 
 brought my whip down on his neck and ears, as 
 hard as I knew how to. 
 
 " He tossed his head vengefully, from side to side, 
 and screamed like an equine demon. 
 
 " His next motion showed considerable skill, though 
 I hardl}' know how it was effected. One thing, how- 
 ever, was patent enough to me, and that was the 
 result; but he seemed to bring his fore and hind feet 
 close together, and arched his back, then straight- 
 ened suddenly out again, like lialf a hundredweight 
 of whalebone. 
 
 " There was a pale half-moon in the sky, the leav- 
 ings of last night, so to speak, and I flew up towards 
 it ; so high, indeed, that I was just thinking of gi-asp- 
 ing one of its horns, wlien down I came again, flop, 
 into the saddle. 
 
 " It did, indeed, hurt. 
 
 "■But I was no sooner down than I was «p' once 
 more, and no sooner up than I was down, and each 
 descent was more painful than tlie last. 
 
 "Then the brute, seeing he could not unsliip me 
 in this way, tried new tactics. He went whirling 
 round and round and round, and linallv, when he 
 
Il6 A BUCK-JUMPING EXPERIENCE 
 
 seemed to know that my brain was all upside down, 
 with one wild, triumphant scream he tossed his hind 
 legs high in the air, and over his head I flew. 
 
 " I alighted on my broad back, lads, with my head 
 to the golden west and my legs pointing to the 
 moon, and my steed, who had now quite recovered 
 his complacency, went trotting after the boys, the 
 most contented and good-natured beast I had ever 
 seen during my long and checkered career. 
 
 " I am sitting on a cushion of soft hay, as I write 
 these lines, and I do not think there is much chance 
 of my riding even my own broncho for days to come." 
 
CHAPTER XII 
 
 IT WAS A TERRIBLE FIGHT WHILE IT LASTED 
 
 " Hark ! That thrilling awful sound ; 
 It is the lion's roar." — Anon. 
 
 Autumn, with its mournful days and moaning 
 winds, passed away, and oftentimes the sky was 
 dark and overcast, and showers of sleet-like clouds 
 of Scottish mist went whirling along the mountain 
 sides. 
 
 Though the puma has gone south and south, and 
 all the migratory song-birds have fled or flown away ; 
 tliough the rattlesnakes bask no longer on grey rocks 
 or clay, and the bears have gone to sleep in caves 
 high up the hills, the deer have become far tamer, 
 and are found not far from the foot-hills and in herds, 
 browsing on whatever Providence has spared them. 
 There are plenty of mallards still to be shot, how- 
 ever, and so Wilson Webb gets good sport — sport 
 that helps to eke out provisions, too. And those birds 
 will remain here as long as there is open water. 
 
 High up the stream where the current was strong, 
 forming many a rapid and cataract, and farther down, 
 perhaps, ceasing to flow entirely and forming a beau- 
 tiful, brOwn, fish-haunted pool, the great otter loved 
 
 117 
 
Il8 IT WAS A TERRIBLE FIGHT 
 
 to live and dwell when summer days were fine, and 
 eke in autumn, too ; but now he, too, came d(jwn the 
 river. 
 
 Then fell the first snow, and one morning when 
 Wilson opened the door of his shanty, the world was 
 robed in white. The flakes liad ceased to fall for a 
 time, however, and the sun was shining on the daz- 
 zling plain — shining from rifts of sweetest blue ; yet 
 far in the east, from which the wind came moaning 
 and mourning, black-blue clouds were lumped along 
 the horizon. And had he been a better [)lainsnian 
 than he yet was, these would have told him that a 
 storm was brewing. 
 
 Wilson had already had breakfast. But he now 
 put on his cartridge belt, flung a kind of blanket 
 poncho round him, shouldered his rifle, and started 
 off towards the foot-hills. He was promising liimself 
 a shot at something. He hoped, indeed, to come up 
 with some of the grey wolves that he knew, from the 
 mournful, wailing howls wliich he had heard all night 
 long, were scouring the plains in search of food. 
 
 He could not find their tracks, however. These 
 had, no doubt, been covered up by the falling snow. 
 So he wandered on and on, still hill-wards, until he 
 had put fully three miles betwixt him and the town. 
 
 Suddenly he stopped. 
 
 Here were footprints, not far from the bank of the 
 stream, which, although he had never seen on snow 
 before, he knew must belong to the puma, or Ameri- 
 can lion — Felis concolor. 
 
IT WAS A TERRIBLE FIGHT II9 
 
 Tlie footmarks were ver}- big and round, so that it 
 was evident enough that the beast must be a large 
 one — probably five feet in length. 
 
 "Wilson's pulse began to beat more quickly now; he 
 
 felt something of 
 
 " The stern joy that warriors feel 
 In foemen worthy of their steel." 
 
 He knew, or he thought he knew, the natural his- 
 tory of the American lion well. The plainsmen, or 
 cowboys, professed to have but little fear of it. This 
 terrible cat, they had told him, would attack calves 
 or sheep, slay them, and suck their blood, but in- 
 variably fled from man. This may be true enough as 
 regards the beast in summer time ; but a half-starved 
 puma in winter is a different kind of animal. He 
 may have had nothing to eat for a day or two, and to 
 drink the blood of a human being, and devour a por- 
 tion of his flesh would mean life to him. 
 
 Anyhow, Wilson Webb looked to his rifle, and de- 
 termined to follow up the tracks. 
 
 Sometimes these led him quite awa}^ from the 
 river; at other times they took a circuit and brought 
 him back thereto. It was evident the lion was on 
 the hunt for something to satisfy his hunger. But 
 now Wilson approached a thick willow wood, and 
 here the trees were high. 
 
 The light shone here and there in bright, confusing 
 patches, but on he went — more slowly now. 
 
 Suddenly right ahead of him and high up he heard 
 
I20 IT WAS A TERRIBLE EIGHT 
 
 a coughing bark or roar. It was part of both, and it 
 was evident enough that the huge beast with the 
 yellow, fierce eyes had made up his mind to give him 
 battle. 
 
 It was bad for Wilson that the sun was in his eyes, 
 making it almost impossible to fire with precision. 
 
 He determined, therefore, to make half a circuit, 
 and so alter things to his advantage. 
 
 Whether or not the puma now imagined that the 
 man was about to beat a retreat, I cannot say ; but 
 with a very startling yell that considerably shook the 
 young man's nerves, he sprang from the tree and 
 advanced, creeping, crouching, fearsome. 
 
 Wilson fired at once. That he wounded the 
 puma the cry of rage and pain told him plainly 
 enough, but hardly had he succeeded in drawing 
 his bowie-knife before the beast was at him, on him. 
 
 He fell ; he below, the lion above, its hot breath 
 blowing in his face, its warm blood spurting all over 
 him. For Wilson had struck out again and again 
 with desperation, and every blow, luckily for him, 
 told. 
 
 The brute had seized his poncho, and this probably 
 saved the hunter's throat or face. 
 
 It was a terrible fight while it lasted, but soon, to 
 his joy, the puma slackened his hold and slid down 
 by his side — dead, on the brown blood-sprinkled 
 snow. 
 
 It took Wilson some considerable time to recover his 
 breath and his sang-froid. Indeed, so hot was he that 
 
IT WAS A TERRIBLE FIGHT 121 
 
 he was fain to stretch himself on the snow, not far 
 from the dead lion. 
 
 He lay thus for a considerable time ; then making 
 perfectly sure that the beast was dead, he quietly 
 proceeded to skin it. 
 
 He was quite an adept at this sort of thing, and 
 very soon the carcass was denuded of its jacket. 
 
 "I wish," he said half aloud, "that I had not 
 made so many holes in it. I have almost spoiled the 
 skin." 
 
 So busily and intently engaged at his work was he, 
 that not until he had finished did he observe that 
 the clouds had banked up, and hidden the sun and 
 that the air was filled with falling snow. 
 
 This was not the worst ; the wind had risen and 
 came moaning from the east in fitful gusts and the 
 temperature had fallen considerably. 
 
 He must make all haste to get back homewards. 
 He was determined, however, not to lose the splendid 
 skin. Such a trophy was well worth preserving. 
 So he made it up in a roll, which he was just about 
 to fasten to his girdle when he heard a blood-curdling, 
 wailing howl, that, brave as he was, caused his heart 
 to almost stand still. 
 
 Right well did he know what it was. The wild 
 grey wolves had scented blood, and were bearing 
 down upon him in a pack. There was not a moment 
 to lose. So, still holding on to that roll of skin and 
 to his rifle, he seized a branch and quickly drew him- 
 self up into a good-sized tree. 
 
122 IT WAS A TERRIBLE FIGHT 
 
 For a time, at all events, he was safe. The wolves 
 would scatter and go onward, he told himself, as 
 soon as they had finished the carcass of the puma. 
 
 There were thirty of them, at least, tall and fierce 
 and grey, and the way they snarled and fought over 
 the flesh told Wilson Webb that terrible, indeed, 
 would be his doom, if, by any accident, he should 
 fall into their clutches. 
 
 But they had finished at last, and now surrounded 
 the tree, lifting up their voices in hideous shrieks and 
 wailings. 
 
 They could not climb, it is true ; but they had 
 sense enough to spring, and they knew, too, that if 
 tliey took a short race to it, the leap would be higlier. 
 
 More than once, then, a huge monster sprang so 
 high that he had all but seized the brave hunter by 
 the foot. This was a species of danger he could not 
 have foreseen. 
 
 Why not climb higher up into the tree? one may 
 ask. Slm[)ly because the branches wonld scarcely 
 have borne his weight, or they might have bent to it, 
 letting him fall into the very midst of the howling 
 pack, when short, indeed, would have been liis shrift. 
 
 He hung the skin higlier above liim, however, and 
 reloading his rifle, took aim and fired. The wolf he 
 struck fell, uttering the most piercing yells, and his 
 companions not only speedily put him out of his 
 misery, but tore him limb from liinb. 
 
 Wilson found now that he had but few cartridges 
 in his belt, and determined to save them. 
 
THEY SURROUNDED THE TREE. 
 
IT WAS A TERRIBLE FIGHT 125 
 
 But liow bitterly cold it had suddenl}^ become ! 
 How thick the snow ! how wild the wind ! He had 
 heard of the blizzards that often swept over these 
 plains and foot-hills, even in early winter, and un- 
 doubtedly this was one of them.. 
 
 Could anything save him from the death that 
 seemed so imminent? He must soon be numbed, 
 thoroughly numbed, and then he should fall from 
 the tree, half-frozen, into the very centre of that pack 
 of waiting wolves. Even they seemed to feel the 
 terrible cold, and now huddled close together or lay 
 on top of each other in a heap. 
 
 ***** 
 
 A whole hour must have gone past, but still the 
 storm raged on. 
 
 He had somehow become regardless, by this time, 
 as to what his fate might be. At times he caught 
 himself nodding, and twice he saved himself from fall- 
 ing only by an extreme effort of will power. 
 
 Half asleep, half dreaming as he was, a happy 
 thought, which was almost an inspiration, now 
 crossed his mind. Luckily he had brought with 
 him a rope, or lariat, and so, willi half-frozen 
 fingers, he proceeded to make himself fast to the 
 stem of the tree, as many a poor sailor does, at sea, 
 to the rigging of his tempest-tossed barque. 
 
 He felt comparatively safe after this. 
 
 But the intense cold had taken terrible hold of his 
 heart and brain. 
 
 Presently, he seemed to be in the tree no longer. 
 
124 IT WAS A TERRIBLE FIGHT 
 
 He was far away in Merry England. He was on 
 the moor, on the children's prairie land, and they 
 were near him, all merry, happy, and gay. 
 
 It was, indeed, a beautiful dream ! 
 
 But, ah, me ! such dreams do often usher in cold 
 death itself. 
 
 Wilson's head had dropped forward on his chest, 
 his cheeks were covered with ice, his hair was 
 matted with frozen snow. 
 
 And, oh ! the wind, the wind ! How bitterly, how 
 mercilessly, it blew ! 
 
 His feet were already, to all intents and purposes, 
 dead, and death was creeping nearer and nearer to 
 the heart itself ; but long before it should reach it, 
 all would be over. 
 
 ***** 
 
 About ten o'clock on that same day, Nate Buster 
 had occasion to call at Wilson's shanty, and Tweed 
 went with him. The blizzard was just then begin- 
 ning to blow and roar like wild beasts in the far 
 distance. 
 
 When the young man's landlady told Nate that 
 he had left two hours before, with his rifle across 
 his shoulder, and had taken his way towards the 
 foot-hills, for a few moments Buster seemed com- 
 pletely taken aback. 
 
 " Oh, my poor English friend ! " he cried. " We 
 will never, never see him more." 
 
 But it was a time for action, and if anything 
 could be douQ, Nate was just the man to attempt it. 
 
IT AYAS A TERRIBLE FIGHT 1 2$ 
 
 He quickly now flew from house to house to tell 
 the sad tidings, and in fifteen minutes' time, ten bold 
 horsemen were speeding westwards as quickly as 
 tlie blinding drift and snow would permit. 
 
 But there was soon nothing to direct them, and 
 hope itself seemed to sink in every heart. But see, 
 what is that on ahead, feathering through the snow ? 
 Why, it is honest Tweed, and he can be but dimly 
 seen, so thickly is he coated with snow. 
 
 The men can only talk in signs, but the doctor 
 and Nate are both pointing towards the dog. He 
 is taking the wrong direction, apparently, but yet 
 they determine to follow him. 
 
 On and on and on. 
 
 And now, from far ahead of them, comes the wail- 
 ing, sobbing sound of a pack of wolves. Tweed 
 answers it with defiant barks, and hope settles down 
 once more in every breast. But suddenly all sounds 
 cease. Even the dog seems puzzled now, and for 
 a whole half-hour runs hither and thither aimlessly. 
 
 The men are just thinking of giving up the search. 
 So terrible is now the blizzard, that they begin to 
 doubt whether their snorting, gasping horses will be 
 able to carry them home again. 
 
 But, see ! Tweed is once more on the trail, and bark- 
 ing anxiously, joyfully. On they speed again, and 
 very soon they reach the wood, and are close to the 
 pack of half-frozen wolves. 
 
 A volley is fired into their very midst, and so 
 closely are they huddled together, that many are 
 
126 IT WAS A TEUKIBLE FIGHT 
 
 killed and many more crawl off wounded, to perish 
 afterwards in the snow. 
 
 But where is Wilson? Can the wolves have de- 
 voured him? 
 
 No, for Tweed, with his nose in the air, is barking 
 joyfully up at the tree. 
 
 Nate himself and the doctor — both are young 
 and active — are soon up. The lariat is loosened, 
 and Wilson Webb's half-frozen body lowered to the 
 ground. 
 
 But some attempt to bring him round must be 
 made before the start, else they would reach the 
 city of shanties carrying a corpse. 
 
 So a kind of shelter from the cutting blast is 
 speedily formed, and the men take turns in rub- 
 bing and chafing the seemingly dead man's limbs 
 and body. And soon they have the intense satis- 
 faction of hearing him moan as if in pain. 
 
 Presently he opens his eyes and smiles faintly. 
 
 " Saved ! " cries Nate. " God in heaven high be 
 praised ! " 
 
 " Saved ! yes, saved ! " cries the doctor. 
 
 Then he puts a flask to Wilson's lips, and bids 
 him sip and swallow. 
 
 And soon he is so far revived that with a little 
 support he can sit up. 
 
 He gazes around him for a few moments be- 
 wilderedly, but he seems to know both Nate and 
 the doctor. He nods and smiles and tries to speak. 
 But his lips are still half frozen and powerless. 
 
IT WAS A TERRIBLE FIGHT 12/ 
 
 "The poo-lioo's sli-sh-sliin I " he mutters more than 
 once. 
 
 The doctor shakes his head. 
 
 " The poor feUow is raving I *' he says. 
 
 But Wilson evidently refuses to admit that he is 
 not sensible enough. 
 
 " Waving I " he says. " No, no, no. No t'all. The 
 poo-hoo's sh-shin. Must 'ave poo-hoo's shin." 
 
 It is Tweed himself who solves tlie riddle, with 
 that marvellous instinct which only dogs possess. 
 
 With a sharp, impatient hark he jumps up, and 
 going a few yards away, commences scraping and 
 snuffing in the snow. 
 
 In a few moments he has dug up and dragged 
 forth a hideous red and fleshless skull. It is that 
 of the puma. 
 
 Tweed carries it towards poor Wilson, and lays it 
 ceremoniously by his side. 
 
 " I have it ! I have it I " cries Nate now. " Our 
 English friend has killed and skinned the [)uma, 
 and is trying to tell us to bring along the 
 skin. 
 
 "The poo-hoo's shin," he added, "means the puma's 
 skin." 
 
 Wilson nodded and smiled. 
 
 ."Away, good dog, and fetch I" cries Nate, and 
 speedily the skin is found. 
 
 But that march homeward was, indeed, a terrible 
 struggle and test of the strength and endurance of 
 these hardy cowboys and their horses. 
 
128 IT WAS A TERRIBLE FIGHT. • , 
 
 They reached the town at last, and Wilson, still 
 more dead than alive, was put to bed, and only the 
 most careful nursing for three days and three nights, 
 during which time Nate hardly ever left the room, 
 sufficed to brinof him round at last. 
 
CHAPTER XIII 
 
 THE GREAT SPRING " ROUND-UP " 
 
 " See, Wintei- comes to rule the varied year." — Thomson. 
 
 Snow and ice ! Ice and snow everywhere ! 
 
 The stream has narrowed and narrowed till it is 
 now but a dark and winding thread, meandering 
 between its banks of dazzling white. The birds — 
 mallards — remain but a little longer now; for they 
 have wings that can bear them south and away to a 
 land where there is open water, — a land where, 
 though rain may fall heavily, the glorious sun shines 
 many times and oft, his warm beams not shorn by the 
 frost. Happy birds ! 
 
 But here it does not always snow. For there are 
 days of exceeding brightness when the sun, like a 
 silver shield, sails along in a sky of cloudless blue 
 and is reflected from plains of dazzling white ; and 
 nights when the moon is so clear one can see to read 
 by its light. Night and silence, save for the mourn- 
 ful cry of the grey wolves that in small packs may 
 even be seen at times scouring the plains in search 
 of food ! 
 
 But it is the cattle and horses that Wilson Webb 
 pities most now. True enough, they have been pro- 
 K 129 
 
130 THE GREAT SPRING " RUUND-UR " 
 
 vided by nature with a winter coat of long, thick 
 hair, but even this hardly suffices to withstand the 
 wintry blast, and they shiver as they are huddled 
 together in groups or try by scraping to reach the 
 benevolent bunch-grass. It is the want of proper 
 sustenance that is worst of all to bear. Had they 
 plenty of forage, plenty to eat, the blood would not 
 be so thin and poor and they would be defiant of the 
 heaviest storms that could blow. 
 
 Last autumn the best and fattest of the flocks 
 were, of course, driven away to the Eastern markets; 
 so these poor beasts are the poorest, and many cows 
 succumb to the weather and lie dead in the midst of 
 their fellows. Here is a feast for the howling wolves 
 and for the black and croaking raven, that loves to 
 stain his rough grey beak with blood or carrion. 
 
 But Wilson is not surprised to find that the wind, 
 which goes wildly sweeping across the hills, drives 
 before it the powdery snow, often filling up the 
 ravines with drifts and often burying beasts alive. 
 But this very wind, in other ways, helps to keep the 
 poor brutes in life ; for they can find grass on the hills 
 it has swept bare. 
 
 Should a slight thaw come, — and this often happens, 
 — succeeded by a harder frost than ever, the cattle 
 may become encrusted or caked with ice. They 
 often lose all heart then, care not to feed, become 
 paralysed, and just lie down to die. 
 
 Wilson Webb was young and very strong, and he 
 gladly assisted the boj's now in their long, wild rides 
 
THE GREAT SPRING "ROUND-UP" 13I 
 
 across the ranges to do what they could for tlie 
 cattle. 
 
 More than once they were caught in terrible bliz- 
 zards, and glad, indeed, and thankful were they when 
 they managed to escape with life. They were not 
 all invariably so lucky. One or two poor fellows even, 
 with their horses, had sunk to rise no more. And were 
 no more seen, indeed, having mistaken the route and 
 wandered far, far away in the wrong direction. No 
 more seen, I mean, until the spring "round-up," 
 when their bodies would be discovered, — poor Luke 
 or poor Joe, — mayhap at the side of some little bank 
 where, in vain, they had sought for shelter, or at the 
 bottom of some rocky canon over which they had 
 been hurled, when the blinding, choking, remorseless 
 blizzard was at its very worst. 
 
 Did Wilson suffer ? No, he was strong and wiry, 
 and really loved adventure for its own sake. He was 
 waxing hardier and hardier too, and fitting himself, 
 though he did not know it then, to undergo the hard- 
 ships and rigours of a country far wilder and rougher 
 than even this. 
 
 Wilson might have been called a " tenderfoot " 
 when he first arrived in the country of the cowboy. 
 He was very far, indeed, from being a tenderfoot 
 now. 
 
 Just look at him this afternoon, and that may be 
 almost any stormy afternoon, as he alights from his 
 broncho at the saloon door after a long wild ride. 
 Boys come out to meet him, and though drowsy still. 
 
132 THE GREAT SPRING "ROUND-UP" 
 
 he tries to smile, but his moustache is caked with ice 
 aucl his lips feel frozen. There is ice on his eyelids, 
 and ice on his cheeks — a very mask of it. 
 
 But he hands his horse to a boy, doffs his hat and 
 shakes it, and after another boy has swept him down 
 with a Avillow broom, he enters. 
 
 Hot enough in here, in all conscience, and he soon 
 thaws. The landlord places before him a huge mug 
 of fragrant coffee. Lizzie brings him biscuits, and 
 soon he is his own old self once more. 
 
 Lizzie brings him something else a few minutes 
 after this. 
 
 The child is a favourite of his as well as of the good 
 doctor, and really she lias many very engaging ways 
 about her. 
 
 She fetches his fiddle-case. He looks at it and 
 looks at her. Then he looks at his left hand and 
 blows upon his lingers. 
 
 " Well, dear, if I must, then I suppose I must," he 
 says. 
 
 There are many boys here. They have been play- 
 ing poker, lounging around and smoking, but they 
 prepare to listen, and Wilson's music really enthralls 
 them. 
 
 They beg of him to play this, that, or t'other, their 
 favourite airs; that is, tunes that bring back to them 
 scenes long since passed and gone, songs that their 
 mothers or sisters used to sing in the days when they 
 were very young, very romantic, and somewhat wild. 
 Days when they thought there must be no life so 
 
THE GREAT SPRING " ROUXD-UP " I 33 
 
 free and joyous as that of mounted cowboy, with his 
 broad hat, his kriat, his strange boots and " chaps," 
 his knife and his guns. 
 
 Yes, for among the boys that lounge here by the 
 counter, their eyes fixed upon the performer, there is 
 more than one gentleman's son, young men from the 
 East who even now might be enjoying all the pleas- 
 ures and comforts of luxury and refinement in their 
 happy homes so far aw^ay. 
 
 No wonder that one or two of them, as Wilson 
 plays, lift their hands to their faces to dash away 
 the tear they would feel ashamed their comrades 
 should see. 
 
 That violin of his brought Wilson Webb a fair 
 share of popularity, and I believe I am not going too 
 far when I say he had not an enemy in the whole 
 town. But there was another reason for this; he 
 never gambled nor played poker. Had he not seen 
 enough of the gambling fiend in the old country to 
 last him a lifetime ? 
 
 Well, once more winter wore away, and prepara- 
 tions were now commenced for the great "round-up," 
 that takes place every spring. 
 
 This was for the branding of the calves, and 
 intensely exciting work it proved. 
 
 Work for men, real men ; work at which your cow- 
 ardly queen's hound followers of England would fail 
 in half a day. 
 
 But in spring takes place what is called the calf 
 round-up, and this not until the calves are big 
 
134 THE GREAT SPRING "ROUND-UP" 
 
 :ind strong enough to stand the branding. In the 
 free-grass round-up, the cowboy is said to be seen 
 at his very best ; for in this, all the wild cattle have 
 to be collected, lieaded away and away till they are 
 brought together in one immense herd, and then 
 comes the counting of them, the separating, and the 
 identification and claiming, each owner having his 
 own brand. 
 
 The skill, the ingenuity, and courage that are dis- 
 played in this round-up is nothing short of marvellous. 
 
 There are many spring or calf round-ups in a 
 free-grass country, often a dozen and more, and the 
 owners have to go shares in the expenses. Each 
 district has, of course, its head man, or boss, whose 
 duties are by no means light, nor free from respon- 
 sibility. 
 
 Well, this particular spring promised to be very 
 fine. 
 
 " We never have seen finer grass," said the Inde- 
 pendent^ " nor friskier, happier nags, and we are will- 
 ing to bet our best and latest printing machine to a 
 new hat, that the summer is going to be a fine one." 
 
 These words were printed in the bold editor's sec- 
 ond edition, and he thouglit fit to give one or two 
 warnings at the same time. He put these in words 
 that it would have been difficult to misunderstand. 
 " There are one or two softies, " the article ran, " who 
 haven't yet paid their last subscription. One of these 
 is Bill Wickens; another is that mutton-headed galoot, 
 Joe Farnley. We mean to lay for the pair of them, 
 
THE GREAT SPRING "ROUND-UP" 1 35 
 
 and when we liave shot an ear off each, they will pay 
 up, and save the other one. Last fall there were 
 some rustlers about on the range. These cattle- 
 thieves did a good thing by their drive, and took 
 away more fat beasts than our fellows could spare. 
 We give them fair warning that if they come again 
 in August, we shall prepare for them some special 
 graves, and we shan't bury them too deep, either; for 
 as a wild winter generally follows a fine season, it is 
 only fair that the grey wolves and the ravens should 
 have a square meal. Rustlers, beware I We happen 
 to know that these lines will be seen by the cattle- 
 lifters, for our Independent finds its way into every 
 part of the known world, and the British queen of 
 England would not sit down to her Sunday's break- 
 fast — which is more nutritious than that of a week- 
 day — were the Independent not placed beside her 
 plate. Now, God speed you, merry, merry cowboys 
 all, and hurrah ! for the spring round-up." 
 
 As Wilson had never before been at any such great 
 meeting, he found quite a deal to wonder at, and his 
 letters home to Leebie and the boys filled them with 
 delight and envy. 
 
 Of course, he took his camera with him. In fact, 
 he never went far without it, and had already made 
 quite a collection of interesting views of everything 
 connected with life on the ranch, on tlie range, or in 
 the city of " TFe're-all-here " itself. 
 
 "You'll have some real hard riding," Nate told him 
 one beautiful evening earl}^ in May. 
 
136 THE GREAT SPRING "ROUND-UP" 
 
 " Yes," said the Doc, " and if you're going to go in 
 for the sport in good earnest, you will need five extra 
 horses." 
 
 " Five extra horses ! " 
 
 " Yes ; we'll all have that, and more. 
 
 "And," continued Nate, " mebbe, as we've got to 
 meet boys from all quarters, although you may take 
 your guns, you'd best keep your temper." 
 
 " Yes, sirree," said the Doc. " Nate's about right ; 
 and if they call you British and a tenderfoot, just 
 laugh. They'll withdraw the insinuations after 
 they've seen ye ride a bit." 
 
 Well, the start was made at last, and that very even- 
 ing they camped out on the plain. It happened to be 
 a moonlight night, and very clear and bright was the 
 sky. Very pretty, too, looked the tents and the 
 flickering mess-fires ; waggons here, and Avaggons 
 there, and little herds of horses. But what struck 
 Wilson most was the methodical and business-like 
 way, in which every matter of detail was arranged 
 and carried out. This particular outfit might have 
 consisted of somewhat under forty men, including 
 the chief cow-puncher, captain or boss, and his lieu- 
 tenant, who knew to a nicety the tricks and manners 
 of every man Jack there, and what they were fit for. 
 On the whole, the band was like a little army on the 
 war-path. 
 
 Early to bed was the order of the day, or rather of 
 the evening. And soon there was little to be heard 
 around the camp, except the sea-like moans of the 
 
THE GREAT SPRING "ROUND-UP" 1 37 
 
 dreary wind, or the mournful cry of owl or yelp of 
 coyote hovering near the camp. 
 
 Wilson slept so soundly that when awakened at 
 length by the shout of the lieutenant ordering all 
 hands to roll out, he could scarcely believe the day 
 had, indeed, begun. 
 
 But he was hungry and he was as fresh as the wild 
 flowers. Good signs both. 
 
 There was a stream at no great distance, and with 
 Nate's collie Tweed bounding by his side, he mounted 
 his broncho and rode off to have a swim. 
 
 How delightfully cool and refreshing was that 
 bath, and I feel sure the nag enjoyed it quite as much 
 as his master or the dog, either. 
 Breakfast ! 
 Saddling ! 
 
 Striking of tents and horsing of waggons! Up 
 and away I 
 
 Every little corps or band has its orders ; every one 
 knows his duty, the portion of the plain to scour, the 
 cattle to head, and the final place of meeting. 
 
 jNIuch art, if, indeed, I might not call it science, is 
 displayed in herding the wild and scattered cattle to 
 the meeting-place. It is hard and tiring work, too, 
 especially on that first day, before the cowboys have 
 been hardened or set as it were to their work. 
 
 What a babel it is! With the shouting of the 
 cowboys whirling here and whirling there, sweeping 
 and floating round and round in every attitude of 
 grace and wild beauty imaginable; the neighing of 
 
138 THE GREAT SPRING " ROUND-XTP " 
 
 the little liorse herds ; the lowing and moaning of the 
 frightened cattle, and their still more frightened 
 calves ! 
 
 And what dust and heat over all the apparently 
 chaotic scene ! 
 
 But it is not chaos, and soon the work of cutting 
 out commences ; for each mother with her calf has to 
 be separated from the general herd, the latter to be 
 branded with the hot irons, with the brand of the 
 mother. 
 
 The work is terribly hard, and Wilson Webb, who 
 has his own duties to perform and is, in fact, now a 
 cowboy to all intents and purposes, finds that he must 
 mount another horse every time he goes into the herd. 
 
 And these horses or ponies really appear to be as 
 wise as their masters. 
 
 A tally must be kept of every cow and calf thus 
 driven clear of the general herd. 
 
 Then comes the curving in the air of the long rope 
 or lasso. It swirls around the cowboy's head, like a 
 living, Avrithing thing, but with lightning speed; it 
 now spins through the air, and a calf is roped and 
 thrown. 
 
 Next comes the branding; necessary, of course, but 
 painful and cruel on the whole. The poor moaning 
 mother can hardly be kept away. 
 
 " Oh, be gentle ! Be gentle, boys ! " she seems to 
 cry, and when at last her dazed offspring staggers to 
 her side, her display of affection, as she gently licks 
 the tender part, is really more than human. 
 
THE GREAT SPRING " ROUND-UR " 1 39 
 
 Well, when the first day's work was over, Wilson 
 — and there were many more like him — felt little 
 inclination to do anything else except eat and sleep. 
 
 He was tired and made no attempt to hide it ; but 
 it was a wholesome, happy tiredness. 
 
 His was a dreamless, solid slumber that night, and 
 every night during the whole round-up. 
 
 But he had gained strength every day, and after 
 the return of the cowboys, he got out his fiddle, which 
 was always left in the charge of little Lizzie, and the 
 lads had such a dance as was seldom to be witnessed, 
 even in the city of " TFt;'re-all-here." 
 
CHAPTER XIV 
 
 ON THE WAR-PATH 
 
 "Over the prairie, ^Yild, bleak and wide ; 
 The foe is ahead — and we ride, and we ride, 
 Our steeds flecked with foam — but, see ! they're in sight ! 
 Steady ! men, steady ! — and now for the fight." 
 
 The fiercely hot summer passed on and away, and 
 then preparations were made for the beef round-up. 
 Yet hot though the summer had been, it was not, 
 strange to say, a dry one. So the grass had been abun- 
 dant ; and the cattle, on inspection, were found to be 
 in fine condition, and quite fit to be driven off to 
 Northern or Eastern markets or railway stations. 
 
 Whether the Independent had or had not so large 
 a circulation as bold Mr. Whetstone was pleased to 
 claim for it, I am not prepared to say. And to his 
 assertion that Her Majesty the Queen would refuse 
 her Sunday-morning meal, did not this somewhat high- 
 flavoured and greasy sheet flank her plate of liver 
 and bacon, I think the editor was drawing the long 
 bow. Anyhow, his warning to the rustlers, or cattle 
 thieves, proved all in vain ; for one evening, as Wil- 
 son and the Doc. were enjoying a pipe on the verandah 
 of the saloon, little Lizzie, as usual, on the medico's 
 
 140 
 
ON THE WAR-PATH 14I 
 
 knee, the trampling hoofs of a galloping horse could 
 be lieard coming nearer and nearer, and presently 
 IiJ"ate himself pulled his dust-stained, perspiring nag 
 right on his haunches beside them. 
 
 " Doctor," he cried, " and 3^ou, Webb ! Up, men ! 
 up ! and help me to rouse the camp and city. The 
 rustlers have been onto us. The dog-gone thieves and 
 scoundrels have cut out and got away, with a whole 
 drove of our beefiest and best." 
 
 Here was news, indeed; and the whole of the city 
 of " TFg're-all-here " was speedily aroused and pre- 
 paring for action. 
 
 "This is to be a fight to the death, boys," said 
 Whetstone ; " though dying in any ordinar' way is a 
 dang'd sight too good for those durned rustlers. 
 Well, ye can't say that we ourself, in the cols, of the 
 Independent, didn't give you warning. I takes the 
 command in person, therefore, of this 'ere expedition, 
 and I appoints Nate Buster, Wilson Webb, and the 
 brave Doc. here my chief officers. Take your tools, 
 Doc, for we mean business, and you'll have bullets 
 to extract on our side, as well as men to kill on the 
 other." 
 
 Tlic cowboys raised a cheer, and the very horses 
 held their lieads on high, as if they knew they were 
 going on the war-path, and in imagination sniffed the 
 battle from afar. 
 
 The cowboys were now drawn up in line for in- 
 spection ; for nothing must be forgotten. Stores of 
 ammunition must be taken, as well as stores of food. 
 
142 ON THE WAll-PATH 
 
 Then the men were ordered to dismount, and while 
 the bronchos were feeding, they had their final meal 
 and their final drink. 
 
 Then good-byes were said to those to be left behind, 
 and the order was given to " mount and ride." 
 
 This was to be an adventure out of the common. 
 Wilson Webb felt sure enough of that, though he 
 could not have foreseen how grimly it was going to 
 end. 
 
 The days were still very long, and, moreover, there 
 would be a round moon shining all night long, in a 
 cloudless, greenish-yellow sky. 
 
 After they had ridden about ten miles, the sun 
 having gone down behind the grand old sierras in 
 a dazzling orange haze, they dismounted by the banks 
 of a stream, where the horses could drink and graze 
 for half an hour. 
 
 Then the stream was forded, and on they rode 
 once more. But Nate, who was riding on a little 
 way ahead, his object being to fall in with the trail 
 of the rustlers, had humanely lifted Tweed, and held 
 him on the saddle in front of him, else the poor fellow 
 would have been exhausted. 
 
 Although, before encamping for a few hours' rest, 
 they did come upon the trail, which was so distinct 
 that a baby could have followed it, the rustlers had 
 at least two days' start of them, and so it would take 
 some time to come up with them — if ever they did. 
 
 Supper was speedily cooked and served. Yes, and 
 eaten with that hearty appetite which the cowboy 
 
ON THE WAR-PATH 1 43 
 
 abroad on the plains never wants. Then down they 
 lay, and, rolling themselves in ponchos or rugs, were 
 soon fast asleep. 
 
 Although given to boasting a little at times, there 
 was not a much smarter man anywhere about than 
 Whetstone. He dearly loved activity, and his men 
 had not slept over four hours when he was in their 
 midst once more. 
 
 " Roll out, boys ! roll out ! Up and away ! We'll 
 give these rustlers beans before another sunset." 
 
 They watered their horses at a pond not far on 
 along the trail. In or near this pool were the car- 
 casses of no less than two fine horned cattle torn 
 and disembowelled by the coyotes. The poor beasts 
 seemed to have dropped dead even as they stooped 
 to drink. 
 
 " Well," said Nate, " this j^roves, anyhow, that the 
 dog-goned rustlers are putting a foot in it. They are 
 goin' fast enough to bust any ordinar' cattle ! " 
 
 " We'll soon bust them," said Whetstone, grimly. 
 
 " As for me," said the doctor, " I'm just spoilin' for 
 a fight." 
 
 On and on for seven long miles, and just as the 
 sun was illumining the clouds far away in the east, 
 they halted near a wood to breakfast. Never, surely, 
 had a morning meal been more hardly earned. Never, 
 certainly, was one done more ample justice to. 
 
 But Whetstone permitted the whole of his little 
 army to have an hour and a half's rest. 
 
 " We might come up with the blessed cattle-thieves 
 
144 <^N THE WAR-PATH 
 
 at any moment men, and tired men don't have a show 
 in a hand-to-hand fight. 
 
 " Look to your guns now, lads," he said, before 
 tliey started. And every one obeyed. 
 
 " Nate, the ground is getting hilly and woody. I 
 don't like to risk going too close to those clumps of 
 trees all at once. Just be the scout, will you ? " 
 
 " Gladly," said Nate, and, still holding the dog in 
 front of him, on he rode. 
 
 But no enemy appeared that day. 
 
 Nate climbed a highish hill next morning, and, 
 to his inexpressible joy, could see far ahead of him, 
 and near to a small farm, or ranch, a band of rustlers 
 hurr3'ing on a herd of cattle in front of them. 
 
 Whether he had been seen or not, he could not 
 tell ; but all was excitement in Whetstone's little 
 army of fifteen good -men and true, when they saw 
 Nate tearing back towards tliem, riding as only a true 
 trained cowboy can, and waving his hat in the air. 
 
 " Coo-ee ! Coo-ee ! " he was shouting. 
 
 Every man would have ridden at the gallop there 
 and then, but Whetstone was too good a general to 
 permit any such rashness. 
 
 He called a halt, and listened to Nate's report 
 with more seriousness than was usually displaj^ed 
 by him. 
 
 "And you think they must be nearly twenty 
 strong ? " 
 
 " I guess they're pretty near." 
 
 " Well, boys," said Whetstone, " my own heart's 
 
ON THE WAE-PATII 1 45 
 
 just a-boilin' over, mid I'd like to rush 'em ; but 
 we've got to make sure, 'and we can't be sure and 
 surtain atliout bein' cautious." 
 
 They went on more slowly now, Nate going ahead 
 again to scout. 
 
 He had disappeared round a clump of trees, when 
 suddenly the sharp report of a rifle rang out on the 
 still air, followed by another ; and then the scout 
 was seen riding back in all haste. 
 
 " We're discovered ! " he cried. 
 
 " Ay, that we are. I've winged the rustlers* scout, 
 but he was able to ride away." 
 
 " Yes, and if we're discivered," said Whetstone, 
 musingly, "they'll fight afore they go farther." 
 
 " That's so." 
 
 "And bein' so, Nate, it strikes me we'd better 
 hold a council o' war." 
 
 This was immediately done. 
 
 Several of the party, especially the warlike doctor, 
 proposed going on at once, and delivering an attack 
 in force. 
 
 "Because," he explained, "they'll entrench that 
 ranch. Sure to. These rustlers are all cowards ; 
 but safe behind an embankment, youll find they 
 can fire finely, and fight till all is blue." 
 
 Wilson Webb was somewhat of the same opinion, 
 but Nate and Whetstone had different ideas, and 
 their plans were carried when put to the vote. 
 
 There was to be no hurry, but plenty of caution, 
 and victory — Whetstone said — was certain. 
 
146 ON THE WAR-PATH 
 
 Well, there was still a long day before the men 
 of " TFe're-all-here," so the main trail was deserted, 
 and before two o'clock they had made quite a detour, 
 and were prepared to descend upon the ranch from 
 the opposite side. 
 
 It was evident enough that the rustlers had given 
 up all hopes of keeping the stolen cattle, and would 
 now bend all their efforts to savingp their own 
 cowardly skins. The cattle were allowed to roam 
 free, therefore, and were browsing and resting 
 quietly after their long, fatiguing drive. 
 
 The north and east sides of the ranch were not only 
 hilly, but covered with brush and trees, thus afford- 
 ing excellent cover for the attacking party. 
 
 Moreover, the rustlers had made one mistake to 
 begin with, and had spent the whole forenoon in 
 fortifying the south and west aspects of the ranch. 
 
 It was not the first time these cattle-thieves had 
 made a raid upon the range belonging to the men of 
 " IFe're-all-here," and so they knew they had but 
 small mercy to expect. 
 
 They should, figuratively speaking, be fighting with 
 halters round their necks, and desperate, indeed, would 
 be their resistance. 
 
 ^ If we could only get them out into the open," 
 said Nate to his chief, "small and quick work we'd 
 make on 'em. Anyhow," he added, " we can cut out 
 their horses." 
 
 They were just outside and to the north of the 
 ranch buildings. 
 
ON THE WAR-PATH 147 
 
 And they were securely hobbled. 
 Well, there is nothing like daring ; so Nate's pro- 
 posal was speedily acted on and a rush made. A 
 withering volley was fired as they dashed on, and the 
 defenders, deserting their half-built trenches, took 
 shelter in the log-house itself, firing through the 
 windows. 
 
 A badly aimed volley or two, that was all, and it 
 was returned in force by a rattling, well-delivered 
 fire that nothing could withstand. 
 
 ^leanwhile some of the boys were busy setting the 
 enemy's horses free and driving them away to the 
 woods. 
 
 "Come out, you durned rustlers!" roared Whet- 
 stone ; " and if you'll fight like men, we'll try to give 
 ye fits. But if you feel ye ain't got the grit in you, 
 lay down your arms and I promise that never a hair 
 in your scalps'll be raised till ye interview the sheriff 
 of 'Tr^'re-all-here.' " 
 
 Another volley from a window was the only 
 reply. 
 
 A bullet tore through the editor's best hat, and 
 one of his men fell wounded. In the strong arms of 
 one of his comrades he was borne to the bush, and the 
 doctor followed to bind up his wounds. 
 
 Now, when Whetstone had proposed great caution 
 in dealing with the rustlers, he had believed they 
 would have thrown up a trench of some sort on all 
 sides. But now, that they had not, he determined 
 to alter his tactics somewhat. He could either lay 
 
148 ON THE WAR-PATH 
 
 siege to the ranch and starve its garrison into subjec- 
 tion, or he could burn them out. 
 
 He chose the hitter phin after further consultation 
 with his ofHcers and men, 
 
 Luckil}^ for Whetstone's operations, there were no 
 windows anywhere save in front. 
 
 He set his fellows, therefore, to cut down brush- 
 wood and roll it down the declivity to the back of 
 the house, whence it could easily be carried to the 
 front and piled up against the windows. 
 
 The good fellows worked briskly and manfully, 
 and before sunset had made their pile. 
 
 But now rest and food were imperative, and it 
 was finally agreed that the main attack should not 
 be made till early morning, when the boys would be 
 fresh and hearty. 
 
 Sentries were set, however, and so, not knowing 
 wliat a da}^ or an hour might bring forth, the cow- 
 boys, after feeding and tending to their horses, lay 
 down and, rolling themselves in their blankets, were 
 soon fast asleep. 
 
CHAPTER XV 
 
 THE BATTLE — LYNCHED AT THE STAKE 
 " Revenge is a kind of civil justice." — Bacox. 
 
 Nothing occurred to disturb the rest of those 
 brave and weary men, and it still wanted three 
 hours of the dawn when Whetstone awoke them. 
 There was no wild shouting of " roll out ! roll out ! " 
 The worthy editor simply stepped quietly round, and 
 placed a hand on the shoulder of each. 
 
 And, thus awakened, all were soon aware that the 
 time for action had arrived. 
 
 The camp-fire was still burning, however; and 
 before starting to work in grim earnest, coffee was 
 made and bread was served out. The cowboys felt 
 like giants refreshed. 
 
 Then they were led down to the ranch, where the 
 piles of brushwood lay. 
 
 When they saw the very first portion of the pile 
 tossed up against the north window, the defenders 
 began to fear and tremble. 
 
 " Fear not, till Birnam wood 
 Do come to Dunsinane." 
 
 But here was Birnam wood coming, and that, too, 
 with a vengeance, — the vengeance of robbed and 
 
 149 
 
I50 THE BATTLE 
 
 wronged men, whom there was no law to protect 
 except the might that, in cases like this, stands for 
 right. 
 
 Several volleys were fired from the now blocked 
 windows, but, as they did no harm, they were not 
 even replied to. 
 
 The cowboys' fire would come soon enough. 
 
 At last the huge piles were completed. The door, 
 however, was left free. 
 
 But fire was not applied until broad daylight. 
 
 There was but little wind, but little though it 
 was, it blew against the front of the house. So 
 luck was all on the side of the besietrers. 
 
 Now came the tug of war, and it was evident to 
 all that the " tulzie " would be a terrible one. The 
 besieged were three times called upon to surrender, 
 and the only answer was a volley of firearms and a 
 volley of taunts and horrid imprecations. 
 
 "Fire the brush, now," shouted Whetstone, "and 
 smoke the rats out o' thar tarnation holes ! " 
 
 Nate himself at one window, and the bold Doc. 
 at the other, fired their pistols into a bunch of dry 
 grass close to the bottom of the piles. The flames 
 leapt upwards in a few little tongues of yellow ; the 
 wind caught these, and next minute the whole was 
 alight. 
 
 Whetstone now drew off his men a distance of 
 twenty yards, and from this spot they could con- 
 centrate their fire upon the door and places near 
 to it. 
 
THE BATTLE 151 
 
 Thougli rough and hardened as regards the tak- 
 ino- of human life, the editor had a little pity in his 
 heart ; for he once more, and finally, asked the army 
 to capitulate to save useless bloodshed. "Never I " 
 
 That was the scornful reply, and it was the last 
 they had a chance of making. 
 
 There was the cracking of glass now, and the 
 terrible roaring of the fire ; for the doomed ranch had 
 caught and would soon be but a heap of ruins. 
 
 But now the door is thrown suddenly open and a 
 withering volley is fired before the rush is made. 
 Several of Whetstone's men have fallen, but the 
 reply is a fearful one, and that doorway is almost 
 immediately piled up with dead and with the 
 Avrithing bodies of the wounded. 
 
 The rest of the besieged men now make a break 
 for the wood. There lies their only chance of safety. 
 But many are tumbled like rabbits in a pine 
 wood, before they reach the friendly shelter, and 
 rushing on after them, the cowboys succeed in 
 making no less than five prisoners. And one of 
 these is the boss rustler, or captain himself. 
 
 Beino- certain that nothing alive can now be inside 
 that red-hot, fiery ranch, Whetstone gives orders for 
 the prisoners to be securely made fast to trees, and 
 for the wounded of the enemy to be hauled away 
 from the doorway, where there was a likelihood of 
 their being roasted alive. 
 
 Then he turns his attention to his own poor fel- 
 lows, among whom the doctor is now busy enough. 
 
152 THE BATTLE 
 
 But two are already stone-dead, one is dying, and 
 three more are wounded. 
 
 Among these latter is Nate Buster himself. A 
 bullet has passed right through his shoulder, severing 
 an important artery, which, however, the doctor has 
 managed to ligature, and thus his life is saved, for 
 the time. 
 
 But see who comes yonder. Why, a mere lad, 
 bareheaded, bare-legged, and wearing only a shirt 
 and pants. 
 
 He is weeping bitterly. 
 
 " Who are you, my boy ? " said Whetstone, placing 
 a kindly hand upon his head. 
 
 " Oh, sir, I'm little Johnnie Grant. Thei'e was 
 only me and fadder and niudder that lived in the 
 ranch." 
 
 " Doctor, doctor," cried Whetstone, " in the 
 bustle of battle we have quite forgotten the inmates 
 of the house. They must have been burned alive." 
 
 " No," said Johnnie, " not burned alive. Poor ole 
 fadder and mudder was burn'd dead. 
 
 " Es, sirree, the rustler boss shot 'em bof las' 
 night. Oh, my pore ole fadder ! Oh, oh ! " 
 
 Whetstone was an angry man now. 
 
 " Come with me, lad, to the trees, and point out to 
 me the durned snake that slew your parents." 
 
 This the boy did. 
 
 " That's he, sir," he said, pointing to a broad- 
 shouldered, daring-looking man of about thirty. 
 
 The boy had dried his eyes, but at sight of this 
 
THE BATTLE I 53 
 
 fiend in human form, he drew back in terror ; then 
 his tears fell faster than ever. 
 
 The boss rustler spat defiance at Whetstone, as he 
 drew near. 
 
 " You mean, despicable, dog-goned coward ! " cried 
 the editor. " Not content with being a thief, you 
 must stain your hands in the blood of a defenceless 
 old man and woman ! Have you a single word to say 
 for yourself?" 
 
 " No, and I wouldn't to you, if I had. You'll lynch 
 me, I know. But do your dangedest, I've only one 
 life to lose, and it's yours. I've but one favour to ask 
 of ye. Let the rope you hang me with be a strong 
 one. I don't want to trouble you trussing me up 
 twice." 
 
 " Hang ye ! " cried Whetstone. " Hang a blood- 
 stained, red-fanged wolf like you ! You shall receive 
 no such courtesy at our hands. Listen, at one hour 
 before sunrise to-morrow morning, you shall be burned 
 at the stake, and may Heaven have mercy on your 
 guilty soul." 
 
 It was evident the sentence was unexpected. 
 The wretch was seen to tremble and strain at his 
 ropes, as if he fain would have burst them and 
 rushed on to some death far less terrible. 
 
 Wiietstone said nothing to the other prisoners, 
 but, turning on his heel, he walked away. 
 
 The charred remains of the old man and his wife 
 were found that evening, and received decent burial. 
 So did the bodies of the dead cowboys. Those of the 
 
154 THE BATTLE 
 
 enemy were to be left to feed the grey wolves, the 
 ravens, or the coyotes. 
 
 But their wounded received as much attention 
 from the kindly Doc. as did his own. 
 
 There grew a tall, strong pine tree at some dis- 
 tance from the wood, and around this Whetstone, a 
 short time after sunset, gave orders that the rustler 
 boss should be made fast. 
 
 And this was done, I am sorry to have to relate, 
 with barbed wire fencing, a coil of which had been 
 found in an outhouse. Then a huge pile of brush- 
 wood was built around the unhappy man, and thus he 
 was condemned to pass the night, in a state of mental 
 and bodily agony that cannot be described. 
 
 This might have been cowboy justice, but it is 
 terrible, indeed, to think of. Just before moonrise 
 Whetstone, considerably mollified, now told the 
 doctor he might, if he chose, send the murderer to 
 sleep. 
 
 "Not eternally. Doc. Take care, for the law must 
 run its course, and the blood of Grant and his wife 
 calls to Heaven for vengeance ! " 
 
 The Doc. took half a bottle of old rye, poured into 
 it a few drops of a brown tincture, and approaching 
 the tree, held it to the man's lips. 
 
 " Drink," he said. " You have much to suffer, soon." 
 
 "A thousand thanks ! " murmured the prisoner. 
 
 Then he drank, and speedily his chin rested on his 
 breast. He was sound asleep. 
 
 Slowly the day began to dawn. Wilson Webb had 
 
THE BATTLE I 55 
 
 never left poor Nate's side. Nate had nursed him 
 once ; it was his turn now. 
 
 Surely dogs know something about coming death ; 
 for Tweed, poor fellow, was never absent from the 
 very moment his master fell. He seemed wise enough 
 to know that the doctor was doing all he could for his 
 patient; for he watched his every movement, and 
 licked his red hands, and fawned upon him when he 
 had finished. 
 
 But he could not be prevailed upon to touch food, 
 although he lapped water readily enough. 
 
 The day was dawning, and it was very still. Not 
 a breath of wind rustled through the grass or moaned 
 amono- the trees. But there had been a slig-ht air of 
 frost, and the bushes were white with rime. 
 
 Who dare say that the murderer did not richly 
 deserve his fate? Nevertheless, it was, indeed, a 
 terrible one. Nor do I mean to sully my pages with 
 complete details of the tragedy. 
 
 The potion that the doctor had administered the 
 evening before, kept the wretched man asleep till 
 within about two hours of his execution. Then he 
 awoke, while the stars were still shining ; awoke cold, 
 shivering, and in pain — for he dared not move, lest 
 those barbed wires should cut into his skin. 
 
 He tried to be brave, but his courage seemed utterl}' 
 to have failed him. 
 
 Just once durino- those lonsf hours, the lonsrest ever 
 he had passed in life, did he speak. It was to his 
 guards. 
 
156 THE BATTLE 
 
 " Men," he said, " what is the time ? " 
 
 They told him. 
 
 He groaned, but continued as follows : " I have an 
 old mother in Colorado. The prisoners you have 
 secured will give you the address. I was her favour- 
 ite boy. Yes, blood-stained wretch though I now 
 am, I had and have a mother's love. My dying wish 
 is that you write to her, but tell her not how I died. 
 Say only I took my death like a man, and that my 
 last thoughts were about her." 
 
 Before the terrible lire was lit, he was offered 
 another drink. He shook his head and refused it. 
 
 Then he must, I think, have gone suddenly mad ; 
 for he began to sing Northern songs of the great 
 struggle 'twixt Federals and Confederates, and even 
 when tongues of flame were leaping like fiery snakes 
 up around him, and encircling his limbs, he continued 
 to sing. 
 
 The scene was awful, beyond the power of pen or 
 pencil to depict. 
 
 Just one terrible yell of pain did lie utter as the 
 fire grew hotter and mounted still higher. 
 
 Wilson Webb had fled. 
 
 The sight was more than he could look upon. 
 
 But just a minute or two after he had gone, while 
 the doomed man, with black, swollen face, and starting 
 eyes, was writhing in mortal agony, the crack of a rifle 
 was heard, followed instantaneously by a sound like 
 that which we hear when a bullet hits a far-off target. 
 A spot of blood appeared on the murderer's brow. 
 
THE BATTLE 157 
 
 Then clown dropped the head and chin — he had 
 gone to his account ! 
 
 When the Doc. and Whetstone looked toward the 
 trench, they could perceive a round, Avhite ball of 
 smoke melting away to leeward in the cool, morning 
 air. 
 
 But the fire was kept up until the body was but a 
 blackened scroll, and till bone after bone dropped 
 from the fiery tree. 
 
 Tlien the tree itself bent and bent, till it suddenly 
 fell with a crash, and all was o'er. 
 
CHAPTER XVI 
 
 "TWEED, TOO, WAS DEAD " 
 
 " Fidelity that neither bribe nor threat 
 Can move or warp, and gratitude for small 
 And trivial favours, lasting as life 
 And glistening even in the dying eye." 
 
 — The Dog. 
 
 A WHOLE month had passed away. 
 
 The beef round-up was over, and the far-off mar- 
 kets had swallowed up the beeves, to the no small 
 profit of the hardy ownei'S. 
 
 But neither Wilson Webb nor poor Nate Buster 
 had taken any part in that round-up ; for Nate was far 
 too ill, and his friend had stayed at home to nurse 
 him. 
 
 He was the only patient the good Doc. had, and 
 nursing, Jie told Wilson, was all he needed. 
 
 " And will he ever get well, Doc. ? " 
 
 This question was not asked in the presence of the 
 languid and prostrate Nate. Wilson knew better 
 than to make any such mistake. 
 
 The doctor had shaken his head sadly enough. 
 
 " I'm going away to the round-up," he said ; " but 
 I shall see Nate alive — never again. 
 
 " You must know, Wilson, that Nate's long career 
 158 
 
"TWEED, TOO, WAS DEAD" 159 
 
 of iutenipeiance lias weakened his heart and thinned 
 his blood. I only wonder he has lived so long as he 
 has." 
 
 Wilson Webb had come to regard this once wild 
 and reckless fellow, with feelings of almost brotherly 
 affection. 
 
 And honest Tweed's regard for his dying master 
 knew no bounds.^ It was trnly wonderful. He had 
 taken to eating again, it is true, but his anxiety to 
 be back by his master's side used to make him hurry 
 through his meal, and often leave the greater part of 
 it in the dish. The dear dog used to begrudge him- 
 self even a few minutes' exercise out of doors. Wil- 
 son would take him out twice a day, but Tweed went 
 hurrying on, and if any other of his species came up, 
 as in the happy days of yore, to make friends with 
 him, he would pass them almost without recognition, 
 or he would look at them sadly, and seem to say : — 
 
 " I am in grief, great grief. Poor master is dying, 
 and I will never, never get another kind friend like 
 him." 
 
 As soon as the walk was at an end, and Wilson 
 Webb turned to go back, Tweed started off at a rac- 
 ing speed, and was home long before him, up on to 
 his master's bed, safe in his master's arms. 
 
 Some who read these lines may think that instances 
 of affection in the dog, like that which I am so feebly 
 depicting, are rare. They are not, indeed. 
 
 I say this, and T who say it know it, that if there 
 1 Sketclied from the life. 
 
l6o "TWEED, TOO, WAS DEAD" 
 
 be a God in heaven, and that God has given to man 
 an animal to be his true and loving companion and 
 faithful unto death, that animal is the dog ; and one 
 has only to understand him and to love him to be 
 beloved again with a wealth of affection such as 
 exists in the heart of no other creature here below. 
 
 My eyes are overflowing with tears as I write, and 
 the lines before me are all a-blur, but they are tears 
 that I am not one little bit ashamed of ! 
 
 ***** 
 
 Poor Nate Buster was a good patient, a very quiet 
 and gentle one. I think he knew as well as Wilson 
 did that the end was just a measurable distance away. 
 Yet he never complained, and was thankful for every 
 little favour that was done him. 
 
 The weather was still warm, and it was his chief 
 delight during the day to be assisted out to the 
 verandah of the house where he resided. Here was 
 a broad bench, where cushions were placed, and on 
 which he liked to lie. 
 
 It faced the west — faced the everlasting hills. 
 Their serrated summits were alread}^ covered with 
 snow, and yet, as he told Wilson, they looked so calm 
 and peaceful; then, when lit up with the crimson 
 and blue of sunset, with the ever-changing clouds 
 above, they seemed to waft his thoughts away and 
 away to that brighter and better land to which he 
 felt and knew he was moving. " Some day," he said 
 to Wilson — " some day I will tell you my story ; for 
 I have a mother and a sister both, and wild though I 
 
"TWEED, TOO, \VAS DEAD" l6l 
 
 have been, I have never forgotten either. Some day 
 - — some day ! " 
 
 Ah I but that some day never came. On the still, 
 bright evenings, as the sun was slowly sinking behind 
 the snowy sierras, Wilson used to play to him beauti- 
 ful selections and pathetic from the masters. He 
 would place the mute on the violin bridge, so that 
 the music was lower, softer, and sweeter. 
 
 One night after he had finished playing a beautiful 
 impromptu, a kind of lullaby, he happened to glance 
 at Nate. 
 
 He seemed peacefully asleep, with one arm over 
 Tweed's shoulders, his brown, thin fingers buried 
 in his mane. And the same red glow that crimsoned 
 clouds and hills lit up his face. 
 
 " He sleeps/' said Wilson, softly, " and poor Tweed 
 is sleeping also ; I will not disturb them ! " so on tip- 
 toe he stole away. 
 
 Something occurred to take the young man away 
 for fully an hour, but he then hurried back to his 
 patient. He had not moved. 
 
 Here I pause, reader, because you can guess what 
 is coming, and I am not the man to try to sketch 
 romantic death-bed scenes. I have seen far too 
 many of them during my checkered career. 
 
 That sleep of Nate's was his last long one. Well, 
 perhaps some may think it strange, / do not, but 
 Tweed., too^ tvas dead. 
 
 They buried Nate Buster in a little valley beside 
 a spring ; a valley which, save in winter, was nearly 
 
 M 
 
l62 "TWEED, TOO, WAS DEAD" 
 
 always green ; a valley in which the willows grew 
 boiinie, waving silvery buds in the breeze long, long 
 before summer came. 
 
 And Twped was buried by his side. 
 
 Little Lizzie, the landlord's daughter, always 
 placed flowers on those graves, wlienever she could 
 find them, for Nate and Tweed had been her friends. 
 
 Says Pope in his " Essay on Man " : — 
 
 " Lo! the poor Indian, whose untutored mind 
 Sees God in clouds, or hears him in the wind ; 
 His soul, proud Science never taught to stray, 
 Far as the solar walk or milky way, 
 But thinks, admitted to that equal sky. 
 His faithful dog shall bear him company." 
 
 And why should he not ? I ask. 
 
CHAPTER XVII 
 
 hurrah! for the land of gold 
 
 " Hope, like the gleaming taper's light, 
 Adorns and cheers the way 
 And still, as darker grows the night, 
 Emits a brighter ray." — Goldsmith. 
 
 Wilson Webb stayed on among the cowboys all 
 throughout the next winter. 
 
 This sort of life had a strange fascination for the 
 young man ; and he loved the snow time almost as 
 much as he loved the summer. He was constantly 
 wandering about with his gun on his shoulder and 
 his camera by his side, and he got plenty of sport 
 among the wolves, coyotes, and winter wild fowl. 
 But more than once he had narrowly escaped with 
 his life from being caught in whirling, choking snow- 
 blizzards. 
 
 He was studying snow scenes anyhow for his 
 forthcoming lectures, and many of the pictures he 
 obtained were most effective, delicate, and beautiful. 
 
 Nor were these winter wanderings of his free from 
 wild adventure. Once, for instance, he was attacked 
 by three hungry grey wolves. After shooting one 
 dead with his revolver, he got his back against a rock 
 and fought the other two with his bowie-knife. 
 
 163 
 
164 HURRAH! FOR THE LAND OF GOLD 
 
 He got the three skins, then made all haste home- 
 wards. And he had left the blood-stained snow none 
 too soon, for when only about a hundred yards away 
 he heard the howling of the main fack. 
 
 They had come to bury their brothers by devour- 
 ing them, and had not Wilson got away in time, he, 
 too, would have been buried in the same simple 
 fashion. 
 
 Just one bear adventure I must mention because 
 there was a comical element in it, although most 
 certainly Wilson saw no fun about it, at the time. 
 
 While up high among the foot-hills one beautiful 
 day, the sky to the eastward became suddenly black 
 and overcast, and a blizzard of more than usual 
 violence swept over the plains. The city of '■'■We've- 
 all-liere,"' which but an hour ago he had been ad- 
 miring, so picturesque did it appear, asleep in the 
 sunlight, was suddenly engulfed in clouds of whirl- 
 ing drift. 
 
 Now to be caught in such a fearful storm meant 
 suffocation and death, and right well did Wilson 
 know this. Glad enough was he, therefore, when 
 he found himself close to the entrance of a rocky 
 cave. 
 
 He crept in at once. It was very dark and far 
 from comfortable, but — aily port in a storm. 
 
 The cold was soon so intense, that he was glad to 
 gather the folds of his blanket around him and crouch 
 in a corner. 
 
 But here was a mystery. He found himself sitting 
 
NOW WAS HIS TIME, HE THOUGHT, TO MAKE A BOLT FOR FREEDOM. 
 
HURKAH ! FOR THE LAND OF GOLD 1 65 
 
 on something soft — and wonderful to relate, that 
 something was warm. 
 
 The truth is he was in a grizzly's cave, and quietly 
 sitting on the proprietor. 
 
 The proprietor, however, was very sound asleep, 
 and there was but little cliance of his awakening. 
 But poor terror-stricken Wilson was kept moving 
 up and down, like a ship in the doldrums, on the 
 heaving sides of the monster. 
 
 For a time he felt like one in a dreadful nightmare, 
 and could not have changed his position to save his 
 life. 
 
 So he just breathed a prayer, and sat still. He 
 could never have told any one how long he did sit 
 there. 
 
 " A thousand years ! "' he told the doctor, though 
 this was probably a slight exaggeration. 
 
 But all the time the wind Avithout roared and 
 howled, as only blizzard winds among the Rockies can. 
 
 Gradually, however, it died, and died away, and 
 soon after not only was it calm, but he could see a 
 streak of sunshine straggling in at the mouth of the 
 cave. 
 
 Now was his time, he thought, to make a bolt for 
 freedom. Well, though the bear had kept his body 
 warm, all below the knees seemed paralysed. Would 
 they cany him ? If they did not, he would fall and 
 the noise would waken Bruin. Oh, horrible thought ! 
 He fancied he heard the crunching of his bones, in the 
 jaws of the awful beast. 
 
l66 IIUKKAH ! FOR THE LAND OF GOLD 
 
 Well, fear lends us wings ; and presently, when, 
 though still asleep, that great grizzly bear stretched 
 out his paws and uttered a sound, partly groan and 
 partly yawn, that appeared to shake the cave, Wil- 
 son sprang to his feet and made a wild dash for the 
 mouth of the cav^e, paralysed legs and all. 
 
 Out he flew, and down he flew. Down the hill 
 running, leaping, vaulting. Nor did he slacken speed 
 until he placed a good long mile 'twixt himself and 
 the cave of that sleeping beauty. " I've never had 
 such a terrible adventure in my life before," he told 
 the boys at the bar that night, " and don't want 
 to be in a bear's bedroom never, never, never any 
 more." 
 
 He looked very serious, but this only made the 
 boys laugh all the louder, and little Lizzie herself 
 joined the chorus. 
 
 " Well, lads," he told them a few months after 
 this, as he put away his fiddle, "the place that now 
 knows me must soon know me no more. I'm going 
 home to get married to the dearest, sweetest lass on 
 earth." 
 
 " Hurrah ! And every good luck attend ye ! " 
 
 " We'll miss you, Wilson," said the editor, " and 
 we'll miss your fiddle ; mind that, sirree." 
 
 » Well, boys," said Wilson, " I must say this : I'll 
 often think of you all and the two years' wild, but 
 pleasant, life I've led among you." 
 
 " Shake, Wilson, shake ! " cried more than one good- 
 
HURRAH! FOR THE LAKD OF GOLD 1 6/ 
 
 hearted fellow; "you are true blue, Breetisher though 
 you be." 
 
 "Shake, Wilson, shake! I endorses the sentiment." 
 
 The Doc. walked home with Wilson that night, and 
 Wilson gave him the easy-chair and one of his very 
 last cigars. 
 
 The Doc. lit up, then he nodded over at his friend. 
 
 "I'm off too." 
 
 "What, ^oit.?" 
 
 " I am. You thought I was settled here for life. 
 But Fm not. I'm only five and thirty, and I want to 
 make a bit o' money because there's a little girl in 
 'Frisco, and we both want to get hitched. 
 
 " Well," he added, " I'm selling my practice. Fact 
 is, it is sold. I had this advertisement in the Neivs- 
 Letter for a month and that kind o' fetched my 
 successor." 
 
 He handed the newspaper across the table, and 
 Wilson read as follows : — 
 
 " Splendid INIedical Practice for sale ! In a rapidly rising 
 
 city in iSI County. Close to the foot-hills. Liberal fees 
 
 from the cowboys. Only a young man need apply. Must have 
 the grit in him. Must ride well and shoot well, be pleasant- 
 tempered and temperate, and alile to take his own part and his 
 place also in a ' round-up.' Splendid sport ! Bears, grey 
 wolves, pumas, coyotes, wild fowl, and fish, with now and then 
 a rustler or a red Indian. Two thousand dollars clinches the 
 bargain. Present Doc. leaving oidy 'cause he wants to get 
 hitched." 
 
 " So you're going to San Francisco ? " 
 " Tliat I am, and so are you." 
 
1 68 HURRAH! FOR THE LAND OF GOLD 
 
 » Me ? " said Wilson. 
 
 " Yes. You're coming right along to give your 
 lectures there, and see me hitched." 
 
 "Well, 'pon honour, I don't mind, but I really 
 should go home. My poor girl is longing to see 
 me." 
 
 " Hush ! You are not going back for another year, 
 at least. You have told me that 3^our sweetheart is 
 hardly out of her teens, and that you haven't too 
 much money. But, lad, I'm going to make you rich, 
 and — get rich myself at the same time." 
 
 "Inasmuch as to how? Give us the 'whys' and 
 the ' wherefores,' Doc." 
 
 " Ever hear of the gold-fields of Klondyke ? " 
 
 " Just a rumour ; all nonsense, I daresay." 
 
 " And / daresay it isn't. 
 
 "Now, you've got sand in you. You're go-ahead 
 and plucky and just about as hardy as they turn 'em 
 out nowadays, and so I say let your cry and mine 
 both be : Hurrah for Klondyke ! " 
 
 " I'll dream about it," said Wilson, smiling. " Tni 
 not rich, and I must confess that for Madeleine's sake 
 I'd dearly like to be." 
 
 And so they parted for the night. Dr. Debrett was 
 a man of method, but a man of bright action as well, 
 and when he made up his mind to do anything he 
 deemed worth doing, he wasn't the individual to let 
 the grass grow up between his toes. 
 
 Wilson Webb's lectures were quite as great a 
 success at San Francisco as they were anywhere 
 
HURRAH ! FOR THE LAND OF GOLD 1 69 
 
 else, but he had now taken the gold fever, and to 
 Alaska he must go. 
 
 He wrote long letters home. Letters to Peters 
 and his sister ; over these poor Madeleine cried a 
 little, but she kissed them over and over again, before 
 she put them carefully away in her little desk. " It 
 is all for your sake, darling," one portion of Wilson's 
 letter ran, " that I wish to make my pile of gold. If 
 all accounts be true, it will not take ver}^ long, and 
 then — Oh, you know what will follow, and how 
 quickly I shall hurry home to love and thee ! " 
 
 Letters to Laurie and Leebie Lea, and a long letter 
 to Ernest Elliot. These letters quite fired the blood 
 of those young fellows. They were sixteen years of 
 age now, remember. 
 
 " I say, Laurie," said Ernie, " if I had cash, I'd start 
 off for Klondyke the day after to-morrow." 
 
 " And so would I ! " cried Laurie. 
 
 " Oh, Ernie ! " exclaimed romantic little Leebie, 
 who was quite as beautiful as ever, — more so, in 
 fact, in Ernest's eyes. " Oh, Ernie, I would go to- 
 night ! " 
 
 And the two dogs went careering round and round 
 the cave, barking till the rocks rang. 
 
 But we must leave these folks for a time, and 
 follow the fortunes of Dr. Debrett and his bride. 
 
 She would not be left behind. Other women, she 
 said, had gone out to Klondyke, and why not she ? 
 And so she had her wa}^ as the wilful generally do, 
 esx^ecially if the wilful one is a woman. 
 
I/O HURRAH! FOR TPIE LAND OF GOLD 
 
 She was a dark-e3'ed little girl, — well, woman 
 now, of course, — very piquant and pretty, and with 
 any amount of life in her. In fact, she was just 
 suited to be the companion of a dashing, dare-all man 
 like the Doc. 
 
 ***** 
 
 It took two weeks to get everything ready for the 
 voyage towards the pole. 
 
 They were to sail in the end of ]Ma\- in one of a 
 certain company's steamers. The Hopeful, as she 
 was called, was by no means a very large boat, and 
 was of American build fore and aft, on deck and down 
 below. 
 
 She really seemed to have too much top-hamper to 
 please a British sailor, who never feels quite safe un- 
 less the principal weight is all below. 
 
 But the Ropeful was comfortable, for all that, and 
 very well found, too, and the doctor and Wilson 
 acted well and wisely by paying for provisions enough 
 to last them for a wliole 3-ear after they should step 
 on shore in tlie land of gold. 
 
 Well, on board the Hopeful there was no great 
 crowd of passengers. Perhaps she was a trifle too 
 small to suit a Yankee's ideas of comfort. Xeverthe- 
 less, among the saloon passengers were some very 
 pleasant people indeed, so that from the \e\-j first 
 Mrs. Dr. Debrett did not feel much from home. 
 One, curiously enough, was a white-haired old gentle- 
 man of nearly seventy, and his wife, a kindly-faced 
 woman who took a o-reat interest in the Doc. and his 
 
HURRAH! FOR THE LAND OF GOLD ijl 
 
 wife. Both were hale and liearty, and the hidy did 
 not make up, nor try to hide her age a single bit. 
 
 " Ah, my dear," she told Mrs. Debrett one morning 
 at breakfast, "you and your husband are just enter- 
 ing on your voyage of life, but me and my old man'll 
 soon be getting into harbour. 
 
 " You may wonder, sir," she continued, addressing 
 the Doc., "what brings an old couple like us here. 
 Well, I'll tell you, and it's niebbe not much credit to 
 us. It is just pride, sir, and nothing else. We come 
 from Chicago, and there we once were rich, but 
 hubbie, he got into a boom ; the boom turned out to 
 be a bubble ; the bubble burst, and we lost pretty 
 near all. Well, hubbie is still as strong as a horse, 
 and has a heart like a lion. He is as likely as not to 
 live for twenty years yet. But he couldn't stand 
 people in Chicago that were once, as far as the world 
 goes, low down on the ladder of life, turning up their 
 noses at us 'cause we had come down a bit. 
 
 "So one morning, 'Margaret,' says he, 'I'm off 
 to Klondyke. Will ye go ? ' 
 
 " ' Haven't I always gone everywhere with you, 
 John ? ' says I. So off we started just a year and a 
 half ago." 
 
 " What I " cried the Doc, " have you been out 
 before?" 
 
 " That have we, and made a pile too ; and we're 
 going back, as you see, to make another." 
 
 "And does your husband dig?" 
 
 "That he does. But vounir John — and that is 
 
T72 HURRAH! FOR THE LAND OF GOLD 
 
 our son and our only chick or child — docs mostly all 
 the hard work. Don't yon, yonng John?" 
 
 Young John sat right opposite, giving all his 
 attention to a rump-steak. 
 
 A sturdy, broad-shouldered fellow, mild-mannered 
 withal, but just one's beau-ideal of what a Klondyke 
 miner ought to be. 
 
 " Of course I do," he replied ; " but what was it 
 I did do, mother?" 
 
 "And how do you like Klondyke?" asked Wilson. 
 
 "Oh, very well," said young John, "bar the dod- 
 rotting skeeters." 
 
 "Should have thought it was too cold for them 
 up there," said Wilson Webb. 
 
 " Cold, sir ! Well, mebbe when they go to sleep 
 they have a bottle o' hot water at their feet. I don't 
 know ; only our American skeeters ain't fit to hold 
 a candle to them. They'll come down to meet us at 
 the mouth o' the river, and welcome us all the way 
 up ; and if we land on some of the islands there 
 about sunset, you've got to cut your way right 
 through them, with the paddle of the punt. An- 
 other chop, steward." 
 
 The ship's course was about at north-northwest, and 
 the weather was not only fine, but really beautiful. 
 Father Neptune was kindly disposed towards every 
 one. There really was no seaway to speak of ; only 
 light, merr}^ wee waves that sparkled in the sun- 
 shine, and, driven along before a gentle breeze, made 
 the ocean all around look like a mighty Missouri. 
 
HURRAH ! von THE LAND OF GOLD 173 
 
 Well, the Yankees do believe in good food, any- 
 how, and in plenty of it, and it did seem to Wilson 
 Webb that the stewards had no sooner cleared away 
 one meal than they began to lay for another. 
 
 There was a fairly good piano here. The doctor's 
 wife sang and [)layed ; the first mate had a beautiful 
 voice, and so, with the addition of Wilson's Stradi- 
 varius, most delightful musical evenings were spent. 
 
 As for the skipper himself, and most of the men 
 passengers, though they liked to hear the music, it 
 did not prevent them from playing poker of an even- 
 ing, or whist itself, although this was not so great 
 a favourite. 
 
 But much to the amusement of everybody, the old 
 Klondyke miner and his wife settled down every 
 night, as regularly as the tides, to a humble game 
 of bezique, for six-penny points. This lonesome 
 game they had plaj-ed together all their lives, and 
 they saw no good and sufficient reason why they 
 should chancre it now. 
 
 The skipper was a thorough Yankee, — at heart, 
 anj^how, — by no means handsome, but affable and 
 always smiling. He tried to do all he could to 
 please everybody, and, truth to tell, he succeeded. 
 
 Well, the Hopeful was bound for St. Michaels, 
 which, a glance at the map will show you, lies some 
 distance north of the mouth, or rather the many 
 mouths, of the great Yukon. In so long a voyage as 
 this, no one could hope that it would be all fine 
 weather. 
 
174 HURRAH! FOR THE LAND OF GOLD 
 
 Nor was it. The Hojjefid was no racer even with 
 a fair wind, but when it commenced to blow what the 
 first mate called " a regular sneezer " right in her 
 teeth, the good ship did not half like it, and she made 
 such labouring, heavy weather that the ladies, and 
 most of the gentlemen also, were fain to stop below. 
 
 The great seas went fizzing and singing past the 
 ship, threatening and vowing vengeance on all on 
 board. Sometimes a heavier wave than usual would 
 hit the Hopeful on the bows with a sickening thud, 
 that made her quiver from stem to stern for a time, 
 and, despite her powerful engines, actually stop dead 
 for a second or two. 
 
 But soon the good ship forged ahead once more, 
 presently, perhaps, loading up as it were with a great 
 green sea that she took in over her fo'c's'le, — a sea 
 that went rearinef and surg'insr and foamino' aft aloncf 
 the decks like the bore that rushes down a Highland 
 river, after a thunder-squall among the mountains. 
 And with terrible force, too, flooding the deck-houses, 
 flooding everything, and carrying with it beef kids, 
 capstan bars, legs of mutton or pork, or anything 
 loose it found in its way. 
 
 But the saloon companion had been battened down, 
 so the sea had to steer clear of this. 
 
 The Hopeful was stronger perhaps than she really 
 looked, and seemed to lose her temper when boarded 
 thus by green seas. She would rise to the occasion 
 literally and figuratively, and soon shake herself clear 
 of the superabundant water. 
 
IIUKKAIl! FOR THE LAND OF GOLD 1 75 
 
 But tins storm lasted but a day and a night. 
 Then in the morning the sunniier sun shone bright 
 and pleasantly once again over a sunnner sea ; the 
 decks were drj^, and all the whiter apparently for 
 their drenching. 
 
 A few slight repairs had to be made, for, forward, 
 the bulwarks had been considerably smashed. After 
 this, things went as merrily as marriage bells. 
 
 The wind had gone right round to the southward 
 and east ; fires were banked, sails were set, and even 
 stunsails low and aloft. It must be stated that this 
 was no ordinary steam tub, but a ship, with steam as 
 an auxiliary power. 
 
CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 THE VOYAGE OF THE HOPEFUL 
 
 " O'er the glad waters of the dark blue sea, 
 Our thoughts as boundless, and our souls as free." 
 
 — Bykon. 
 
 As the ship got more to the northward, the weather 
 became sensibly cooler ; but this only in comparison 
 with the fiery south. The sun was still strong; the 
 sea, like the sky, was blue ; and so the forenoons, 
 spent on the quarter-deck, over which an awning was 
 always spread, when it could be carried, were pleas- 
 ant enough. 
 
 There were books to read and yarns to be spun 
 by those who had been much to sea, or up Klondyke 
 way, before. 
 
 It would not be difficult to fill whole chapters 
 with the strange stories that the first mate told. 
 Perhaps they bordered on the fictitious and roman- 
 tic, but I do not think they were really much the 
 worse on that account. 
 
 Then there were the experiences of old John 
 and young John to be related, and these were very 
 quaintly told, and every bit as true as Johnson's 
 Dictionary. 
 
 176 
 
TlIK VOYAGE OF THE HOPEFUL 177 
 
 As they approached the Aleutian Islands, the ship 
 became enveloped in dense, white fogs. Hardly a 
 breath of wind blew now, 3^et the seas were high, 
 smooth, and rolling almost like the doldrums one 
 falls in witli while crossing the line. 
 
 These doldrums are far, indeed, from pleasant, no 
 matter where you meet them. Sea-legs are exceed- 
 ingly serviceable, and Avill hold you erect while you 
 walk, even in half a gale of wind. But sea-legs are of 
 little use in the doldrums. If on deck, you go sidling 
 about in a most uncertain way. At one moment you 
 may find yourself alongside the starboard bulwarks, 
 and next hanging on to the port belaying-pins, won- 
 dering where you have got to skate to next. 
 
 When you seek rest, below, 3^ou can hardly find 
 it. If there be a coal-scuttle in the saloon, it is sure 
 to meet you in the doorway and get mixed up with 
 your legs, of which you seem to have five and twenty. 
 If there are any footstools, they are certain to trip 
 you up. ]\lost of the small chairs are in the middle 
 of the floor ; and the skipper's big easy-chair comes 
 gliding towards you as if it expected you to waltz 
 with it. But who, in all the world, wants to waltz 
 with a skipper's easy-chair? 
 
 In despair you fling 3'ourself on a couch. If this 
 couch stands athwartships, you'll be resting on your 
 heels one minute, and standing on your head the 
 next, and if you exchange it for a fore-and-aft sofa, 
 you'll have to pick yourself off the deck in less than 
 a brace of shakes. 
 
1/8 THE voyagp: of the hopeful 
 
 " Oh, dear, dear ! " you cry in your agony ; " tl\e 
 man who goes to sea for pleasure may go to — to a 
 far different phice for rest." 
 
 But neither the swell nor the fog continued a very 
 long time, although the progress of the ship was con- 
 siderably interfered with for a time, and the voyage 
 therefore rendered much longer. 
 
 Concerning the fogs, the skipper, with whom 
 Wilson Webb and the Doc. were one day walking 
 the quarter-deck, made the following remarks : — 
 
 " Ah ! gentlemen, this is nothing. Away up in the 
 Bering Sea, where I spent many and many a season 
 at the fur-sealing, the fog was sometimes so dense 
 that it was difficult to see a man five yards away." 
 
 " The fur-seal is the sea-lion, isn't it?" said Wilson. 
 
 "You're right, young sir; sea-lions, or sea-bears, 
 these seals are called, though I never could tell 
 rightly why, unless it be that they roar just like 
 the African lion, or the great ice-bear, when he's 
 yawning a bit, or stretching himself. 
 
 " Well, gentlemen, it is up there they go to breed, 
 season after season, as regular's the tides. But how- 
 ever they can find their way through the dense and 
 terrible mist, to these same Pribylov Islands, has 
 always been a poser and a licker to me. What men 
 o' science call the 'homing instinct,' 'cause they 
 haven't a better name for it, is one o' the mysteries 
 of Providence. Talk about pigeons having this in- 
 stinct, why, the fur-seal can give them points in 
 everything but speed, and lick them hollow. But 
 
THE VOYAGE OF THE HOPEFUL 1 79 
 
 the strange thing is this : after the breeding season 
 on their lonely island is over, they make their way 
 south, living on the fish that the sea everywhere 
 teems with. South and south, to sunny lands, and 
 they may be found all along the coast of Japan, and 
 goodness only knows where all else. Then north 
 again, early in spring, through these fearful fogs that 
 you could cut with a hatchet, unerringly too, till 
 they once more reach their northern home, where 
 the babies are born. What guides them? We sailors 
 just say ' God,' and we sa}^ it with some reverence too." 
 
 " Are there not terrible cruelties committed at the 
 fur-sealing?" said Wilson. 
 
 " Well, in my earlier days there were, but I think 
 it is better now. We didn't use to kill the father 
 and mother lions, but we would get between the sea 
 and the bachelor droves, and just work them inland 
 for a mile or so, like a flock o' sheep, to a kind of 
 slaughter-pens, and then the murder began. 
 
 " So many did we kill, too, that if the law hadn't at 
 long last interfered, to limit the massacre, I don't 
 think that by this time there would have been a 
 single fur-seal left alive." 
 
 One day something white was reported away on 
 the weather bow, and the course was altered a point 
 or two. It turned out to be a huge, square piece of 
 ice. Snow covered it was, and on a hummock right 
 in the centre stood a huge snow-bear. He was 
 evidently on the outlook for land — which he was 
 destined never to see. 
 
l8o THE VOYAGE OF THE HOPEFUL 
 
 Mrs. Debrett was much interested in the poor 
 beast, and when she heard a boat being called away 
 with a gunner or two — 
 
 " Oh, captain, do not send and kill the bear. 
 Indeed, indeed, it is cruel ! " she urged. 
 
 "My dear lady," said the skipper, "you must 
 really credit me with having as soft a heart as ever 
 beat in a sailor's breast, but we are going to slioot 
 that bear to save it from a far worse fate. Already, 
 he is no doubt suffering all the pangs and terrors of 
 starvation. He can never reach shore. His raft 
 will melt from under him ; but long before that he 
 would go mad and leap into the sea, onl}^ to be torn 
 to pieces by the great sharks,^ with which the 
 northern seas abound. Don't you think, then, we 
 are going to do what is best?" 
 
 Mrs. Debrett said no more, but went down below. 
 
 One bright, sunny morning mountains showed 
 their white heads over the blue horizon, to the 
 northward and west, and it was soon reported that 
 Unalaska Island would be reached that same even- 
 ing. A glance at the map will show its position in 
 the Aleutian chain. 
 
 It has mountains towering to the moon, which the 
 snow never leaves. And on a small island, in a lovely, 
 enclosed bay, stands the town of Dutch Harbour. 
 
 1 The Scymnus Borealis is probably the hxrgest shark in the 
 ■world, as it is undoubtedly the fiercest. I have seen specimens 
 caught fifteen feet long, and they gi-ow even to eighteen feet. — G. S. 
 
THE VOYAGE OF THE HOPEFUL l8l 
 
 They had mails for this town ; and so the anchor 
 was let go, and soon boats surrounded the ship and 
 the decks were crowded with all kinds and condi- 
 tions of men. 
 
 The stay here would be brief, the captain being 
 anxious to get on to St. Michael's. But a party, 
 among which were the doctor and his wife, with 
 Wilson Webb, were landed, and much delighted 
 were they with all they saw. 
 
 High, high above them were the dazzling peaks 
 of the jagged and serrated mountains, but down 
 below the valleys and the plains, many of the for- 
 mer wildly and picturesquely wooded, were green 
 and beautiful. Birds sang in the bush and copses , 
 and the whole earth seemed carpeted with flowers, 
 which in the open hugged the ground, and in more 
 shaded places were tall and plumed. 
 
 No one had taken a gun — it would have been 
 cruel, anj'how, to have disturbed the reindeer, the 
 strange little foxes, and the otters in their native 
 wilds. 
 
 The streams appeared to abound with fish, and 
 many kinds of game were seen in the scattered 
 pine woods. 
 
 While admitting that this island must be a very 
 paradise for the all-round sportsman, who could 
 shoot and fish by turns, and study the wonders of 
 nature wlien tired of rod and gun, Wilson had to 
 content himself with taking snap-shots with his 
 camera. But with this he was very successful 
 
1 82 THE VOYAGE OF THE HOPEFUL 
 
 indeed, especially with pictures of river scenery, — • 
 waterfalls, rapids, and rocks. 
 
 The little party did not go on board until long 
 after moonrise, and if the scenery was beautiful by 
 day, under the moon's rays it was solemn and weird 
 in the extreme. 
 
 As they rowed back to the ship, some one started 
 a song, in which all joined and to which the very 
 oars, in their rowlocks, seemed to keep time. 
 
 They were very happy. 
 
 But they were under way again next morning long 
 before breakfast. 
 
 ***** 
 
 It was an Irishman, who, being asked to describe 
 his native village, could only shake his head and 
 smile and repeat over and over again, " Och thin, 
 Ballintray is a quare place ; a quare, cpiare place." 
 
 Well, and our heroes found St. Michael a " quare, 
 quare place." And, indeed, I don't think that any- 
 body looked upon it with any degree of favour. 
 They had by this time settled down to their quiet, 
 dreamy sea-life, and this was a rude awaking from 
 so pleasant a dream. 
 
 A " quare " place, and a " quare " wee town on the 
 island ! The white population — if one is really justi- 
 fied in calling those dirty faces white — numbered 
 probably about a hundred. Probably less ; I am not 
 quite certain, but then there were at least four Eski- 
 mos, or Innuits, to every civilised man. 
 
 It didn't appear possible to Ij^nch a man here ; for 
 
THE VOYAGE OF THE HOPEFUL 1 83 
 
 altliouofh the roUino- land was boniiie and flowery and 
 green, there was not a tree to be seen. I slioukl be 
 sorry to say there was anything in the shape of a 
 street, and the old-fashioned, wretched houses were 
 stuck down anyhow and seemed to give one the 
 cold shouldej- by often turning their gables towards 
 one. 
 
 But there was a warehouse — so called — here and 
 there, and there were hills in the farther distance, on 
 which it was pleasant for the eye to dwell ; to say 
 nothingr of the fort. 
 
 St. Michael's is about sixty -five miles, as nearly as I 
 can guess, north of the Yukon River, and in two days' 
 time a river boat arrived to take them down there, 
 and so up the broad and winding stream to the Land 
 of Gold. 
 
 Wilson, the doctor, and young John went on shore 
 here at St. ^Michael's, but as there was nothing ver}^ 
 exhilarating about the place, and as the smell of 
 decayed fish was not calculated to increase the 
 appetite, they soon came on board again. 
 
 Everybody was hopeful, and the saloon of the 
 steamer was never more bright and cheerful than it 
 was that last evening, after dinner, when the lamps 
 were lit and Wilson liad taken out his fiddle and 
 tuned it up. 
 
 The best of friends must part, and next morning 
 the disembarkation and reembarkation took place ; 
 and before noon, farewells having been said to 
 those they had to leave behind them, the Innuit^ as 
 
184 THE VOYAGE OF THE HOPEFUL 
 
 she was called, was under way and coasting down 
 towards the great Yuk(jn. 
 
 I have said nothing in my description of this voyage 
 from San Francisco about the steerage passengers, or 
 gold-seekers forward. Mostly young they were and 
 hardy, as well they needed to be. SoniQ were Ameri- 
 cans, but there were Britishers there, too; and I may 
 say here at once, and be done with it, that though 
 a certain percentage of these failed in finding suffi- 
 cient gold to reward them for their enterprise, most 
 did well, and several came back rich and are now 
 living in beautiful houses, and spending their money 
 freely enough in their own countries. 
 
 It was pretty hot just at present on the Yukon, 
 and the more scantily dressed one was, so much 
 the better as regarded coolness. But the mosquitoes 
 were in fine form, and Wilson Webb soon found out 
 that they could bite beautifully, even through a thin 
 Garibaldi shirt. They knew well what they were 
 about, did those skeeters, and the very best places 
 on which to alight and sample their man. The ear 
 was a very favourite resort of the blood-thirsty creat- 
 ures, and the next nicest place, I think, was the brow 
 in man and the cheeks or necks of fair womanhood. 
 
 Yet, strange to say, some possessed a complete 
 immunity from their tantalising attacks. Young 
 John, for instance, and young John's father and 
 mother were perfectly mosquito-proof. 
 
 Wilson certainly was not, nor the doctor and his 
 dear little wife either, until he brought science to the 
 
THE VOYAGE OF THE HOPEFUL 1 85 
 
 rescue, in the shape not only of a lotion to be ap- 
 plied night and morning to the exposed part of the 
 skin, but of a draught to be taken at the same time. 
 
 To prove the efficacy of this, the doctor would 
 catch a mosquito and, after pulling the wings off so 
 that it could only crawl, place it on a sheet of white 
 paper, then, dipping a clean pen in the lotion, draw 
 a circle round it, when the unpleasant insect at once 
 fell and expired. 
 
 But the triumph of his art was manifested when 
 he operated on a white bull-terrier dog, which was 
 so bitten and tormented that it Avas all but dead. 
 The Doc. injected a few drops of the principal 
 inofredient under the animal's skin and bathed him 
 with the lotion. The dog was well in a few hours, 
 and never again was much bitten. 
 
 It was considered in 'Frisco to be a very daring 
 and foolhardy thing for the Doc. to take his young 
 and somewhat fragile wife with him. 
 
 The doctor himself was not of that opinion. He 
 knew what he was about, and he never had cause to 
 repent it. Indeed, it was very much all the other 
 way. For even before leaving the city of the Pacific 
 slope, she proved her value in doing shopping ; and 
 many a little comfort did she purchase and pack up, 
 that he himself would never have thought of. 
 
 Of course the amount of luggage or outfit was 
 limited as to bulk and weight, but it is certain that 
 Mrs. Debrett made the best of both, so that her hus- 
 band was really proud of her. 
 
1 86 THE VOYAGE OF THE HOPEFUL 
 
 And she had assisted Wilson Webb also in doing 
 his shopping and choosing his outfit. 
 
 Moreover, when once fairly settled in Klondyke, 
 she proved to be an excellent cook. 
 
 But stay, they are not quite there yet. There is 
 all the long, wide river Yukon to navigate before 
 they can reach the Land of Hope, the Country of 
 Nuggets and Golden Sand. 
 
CHAPTER XIX 
 
 STEAJVHNG UP THE GREAT YUKON 
 
 " Xe'er saw T, never felt, a calm so deep ! 
 The river giideth at his own sweet will, 
 And all that mighty heart is lying still ! " 
 
 — Wordsworth. 
 
 It was not to be supposed nor expected that the 
 same comforts and accommodation were to be found 
 on the river boat, Innuit, which had made life so 
 pleasant on board the sturdy Hopeful. But as far as 
 our heroes were concerned, this troubled them l)ut 
 little. They had come out here, not for pleasure, but 
 profit, and were willing to gird up their loins and to 
 rough it. 
 
 And everybody was healthy, happy, and cheerful. 
 Wilson Webb was singing all day long. Singing for 
 the same reason that the birds sing, because there is 
 music in their hearts, born of their beautiful surround- 
 ings, and music ivill find vent. 
 
 Yes, everything they saw from the InnuiVs deck 
 now was new and strange, and some of the scenery 
 was wild and beautiful in the extreme. 
 
 It was changeful, too, ever changeful, and so nu- 
 merous were the islands that it was generally impos- 
 sible to tell whether they were gazing on the river's 
 
 187 
 
1 88 STEAMING UP THE GREAT YUKON 
 
 banks, or on some green little isle in the midst of the 
 stream. 
 
 To describe in detail the scenery of a great and 
 mighty winding river like this would, indeed, be a 
 labour Herculean. Nor is it necessary. More wise, 
 it is, to try to identify ourselves with those on board 
 who gazed thereon, oftentimes, I fear, without ap- 
 preciating it ; hardly seeing it, perhaps, so filled with 
 hopes and aspirations and plans for the future were 
 their hearts. 
 
 For every one here was pregnant with ambition of 
 one kind or another, though varied, perhaps, in 
 degree. 
 
 Wilson Webb's was probably the highest, the most 
 bounding. He could look ahead, too, with hope, and 
 the happiness of anticipation, to a not far-distant time, 
 when, with much fine gold in his coffers, he should 
 be bounding homewards — yes, "bounding" is just 
 the right word, in the light place — across the broad 
 Atlantic, in a greyhound of the fastest, fleetest build, 
 to the green shores of ]Merry England, and the arms 
 of the girl he had left behind him. 
 
 The doctor's ambition was also high. He had all 
 he loved on earth beside him, in the person of his 
 nervous, anxious, but dear and pretty, wee body 
 of a wife. But great possibilities were before him, 
 and gold could do anything. He had not yet, and 
 never would, regret the time he had spent in cow- 
 boy land. The wild life had made a man of him ; 
 had strengthened and hardened every muscle in his 
 
STEAMING UP THE GREAT YUKON 1 89 
 
 body, even to that strongest of all muscles, the heart 
 itself. 
 
 Yet a medical man's life in a city even like San 
 Francisco, he told himself, was but toil and slavery ; 
 no time to call one's own, every joy or pleasure 
 leavened with anxiety. 
 
 But with gold — ah ! No wonder he rubbed his 
 hands as the river went flowing past and the moun- 
 tains and hills in the middle distance kept mingling 
 and mingling, and seemingly shifting position every 
 minute — yes, the gold ! His countr}" house should 
 be a very beautiful one, his park all around it a gar- 
 den of dreams, Lilla, as he called his little wife, its 
 presiding genius. But their house and lovely 
 grounds would not be all. No, there would be that 
 yacht. She should not be a racer, but a voyager, 
 broad in beam and comfortable, everything beautiful 
 and luxurious, and its saloon like a mermaid's palace. 
 Everything that high art and modern science could 
 accomplish, would be done to make the yacht a 
 triumph and the envy of all who might behold her. 
 
 " For what," reasoned the good doctor, " is the 
 good of gold but to purchase pleasure ? " 
 
 But ]\Irs. Debrett's ambition was not of so high a 
 standard. Gold, she, too, would like to have, because 
 its possession would render her husband happy, but 
 a home life would have much greater charms for her 
 than wandering far in foreign lands, or sailing in a 
 lovely yacht over sunny seas, unknown. 
 
 Well, as to young John, he could scarce have told 
 
1 90 STEAMING UP THE GREAT YUKON 
 
 any one what he should do with wealth and fortune, 
 should he be lucky enough to fall in with any. He 
 loved a gun, he loved a rod and a good dog, and 
 that was about all in life he cared for. 
 
 Then as to his parents — old they were, though 
 healthy and hardy — yet was their ambition tinged 
 with a little sadness. Gold? Yes, they would find 
 gold, but, heigho ! they were wearing down, down 
 towards the horizon of life, and gold is no good in 
 the grave, and they should have no need of it in 
 the land o' the leal. 
 
 Very steadily did the Innnit plough her way up 
 the great Yukon. Eastward first, with now and then 
 a bend towards the south ; past many a strange and 
 comfortless Indian village, where the wild inhabitants, 
 some of them uncouth even to extreme ugliness, were 
 so busy preparing salmon for the market that they 
 hardly cast a glance towards the slowly passing 
 steamboat ; winding in and out, then pursuing an 
 almost direct course northwards with just a trifle 
 of east in it, till Nulato is reached, and soon after 
 another river or tributary that rises far away among 
 the Snow Mountains beyond the Arctic circle, passes 
 the hills of Yukon, and slowly, broadening out, 
 joins the main stream here. 
 
 Nulato was once, whatever it may be now, a great 
 fur-company's post, and although the desolate and 
 dreary place lies on flat rolling ground on the 
 northern side of the river, it affords but few attrac- 
 tions for the traveller. Beautiful enough, however, 
 
STEAMING Ur THE GREAT YUKON 191 
 
 were now its summer surroundings, — tlie distant 
 hills, the rocks and glens, and deep woods of darkest 
 green, yet it is hardly the spot one would choose 
 as a winter resort. 
 
 As in other places, fishing is here the principal 
 employment of the natives, and this is carried on 
 during the summer months by means of strange 
 wicker eel-traps, and in winter through holes in the 
 ice. 
 
 There is a tribe here, or near here, of savages far 
 more ferocious in appearance than most met with 
 elsewhere. In days gone by a terrible massacre of 
 Russians took place at the foot of Nulato, the Ind- 
 ians fighting for the most part with bows and 
 arrows and ugly-looking knives. 
 
 But now the river runs straight for many and 
 many a mile, more northerly after a time, however, 
 until Fort Yukon is reached. Then it is southward 
 and east all the way until Dawson City, at the mouth 
 of the Klondyke River, appears in sight. This river 
 rises far to the northeast among the spurs of the 
 Rocky Mountains, — a mere brown roaring burn at 
 first, dashing on amidst a chaos of grey boulders, 
 forming here a cataract, and here a dark brown pool, 
 where trout and lish leap up in the glad sunshine ; 
 and so numerous are these at times that the surface 
 of the water is as troubled, as if a shower of summer 
 hail were falling on it. 
 
 Few, if any, men come to the Yukon for pleasure 
 and sport alone ; or if they do, they speedily catch the 
 
192 STEAMING UP THE GREAT YUKON 
 
 gold fever, get hold of a claim, and proceed at once 
 to make their fortunes, or try to. 
 
 But Wilson Webb, being at heart an artist as well 
 as a photographer, could not be otherwise than struck 
 by the strange and ever-varying character of the 
 scenery. Even the hills and mountains, whether 
 green and near, or serrated, snow-peaked, and far 
 away, had a weirdness about them he had never seen 
 surpassed. The river was sometimes very broad and 
 shallow ; at other times narrowed by frowning rocks 
 and precipices, and so rapid, that it was, indeed a 
 struggle for the Innuit to get on at all. 
 
 The forests or woods were often dense, and quite 
 filled up the glens at times, and on more elevated 
 and exposed ground the trees were growing only 
 here and there. But strangely shaped they were 
 and weird, for all had to do battle with the stormy 
 winds of winter. The branches of the pines — mostly 
 a kind of spruce — all pointed downwards. They 
 would always grow thus, and it is doubtless a provi- 
 sion of nature, to save them from being broken by 
 the weight of falling snow. 
 
 In these hills and near to the shelter of the woods 
 the reindeer would often stand to gaze and wonder 
 at the steamer ; then, tossing their antlered heads in 
 the air, dash off at a speed that the best of hounds 
 could hardly have equalled. 
 
 It may be guessed that Wilson's camera was never 
 idle. The only difficulty he experienced lay in choos- 
 ing the views to seize upon. He would have liked 
 
STEAMING UP THE GREAT YUKON 1 93 
 
 to have taken them all, and thus form a panorama, 
 giving the whole sweep of the mighty Yukon. 
 ***** 
 
 Dawson City at long, long last ! 
 
 Dawson City on the borders of the Land of Gold ! 
 
 The real El Dorado would seem at present to be 
 a wild circular tract of country, lying between the 
 Rocky Mountains on the north and east, the Blue 
 Mountains on the southeast, and the river itself from 
 F'ort Selkirk to Dawson City. 
 
 But the Klondyke River is itself the largest, and 
 into it flows — high up-stream — many and many a 
 tributary, chief of these being the Hunker, the 
 Bean, and the Bonanza. 
 
 Into the Yukon, higher up still, flow the Indian 
 and the Stewart rivers, and several others less im- 
 portant. 
 
 Neither Wilson Webb nor the doctor was much 
 struck with the beauty of Dawson City. It seemed 
 a lively enough place, built here and there and any- 
 how, one might say, by the river's bank, but many 
 parts laid out in streets and squares, many houses 
 farther inwards on the sparsely wooded, rugged, and 
 rolling country. But on this lovely summer's day 
 the broad river itself was shining like silver in the 
 sunshine, and the brae-lands that bounded it to the 
 
194 STEAMING Ur THE GREAT YUKON 
 
 south resembled those surrounding some Scotch or 
 Irish lochs. 
 
 Beauty or not beauty, every one was glad enough 
 that the long voyage up-stream was ended at last, 
 and that the work of gold-seeking would soon 
 begin. 
 
 " Dawson City," said the aged miner, " is going to 
 be a big place, by and by, whoever lives to see it. 
 Ay," he added, " and the real incursion to Klondyke 
 hasn't hardly begun yet. Indeed, young fellows, 
 you may think yourselves happy to be here in time." 
 
 Wilson and the doctor went on shore to spend 
 the evening and just see how things looked, but 
 Mrs. Debrett stayed on board. City life of this kind 
 was somewhat too rough for her. 
 
 The old man was going to hold back, and did for a 
 time. 
 
 " Go into the town by all means, John," said his 
 better half. " There'll be many who want to see you 
 and welcome you back, and you can act as guide to 
 the boys. Young John will stay on board with his 
 old mother." 
 
 " That will I," said John, right heartily. 
 
 " Why, Webb," cried the Doc, just as they were 
 starting, " wouldn't it be a good idea to take your 
 fiddle?" 
 
 " Capital ! " said Wilson, " and so I shall. Who 
 knows but that I may have to fall back upon fiddling 
 yet, when gold-digging fails me ! " 
 
 Many had come down to see the unloading of the 
 
STEAMING UP THE GREAT YUKON 1 95 
 
 Innuit ; for she carried not only passengers, but quite 
 a variety of stores. 
 
 The steerage people landed for good, and almost 
 all were provided with tents, as well as their packages 
 of tools, provisions, etc. They helped each other to 
 carry these, and they formed quite a little camp all 
 to themselves in the rear of the city. 
 
 Mr. Grimshaw, the old man miner, as it seems he 
 was usually called in Dawson City, was hardly on 
 shore before he was recognised, — not by one man, 
 but by many. 
 
 In fact, before they reached the largest general 
 store, he had to stop and shake hands at least a score 
 of times, and quietly refuse about as many invita- 
 tions to the saloon. 
 
 " These young fellows," he said, " want to see a 
 little city life, and Tm their guide. D'ye lay to the 
 situation ? " 
 
 " We lay," they would reply ; " but we'll see you 
 at McRae's later on." 
 
 "Never fear." 
 
 "I'm just real glad," said Grimshaw, "that you 
 paid for a year's provisions. 'Cause 'way uj) country 
 the winter won't pass through without a kind of gen- 
 eral famine. 
 
 " And things here," he added, " are just about 
 starvation prices already. Let us go into this store 
 and interview the merchant. Mind, it isn't his fault 
 that provisions are high ; some, you know, are more'n 
 scarce, and then the trading companies have formed 
 
196 STEAMING UP THE GREAT YUKON 
 
 a kind of corner. Greenhorns who haven't paid for 
 a 3'ear's pi'o visions before leaving Seattle or 'Frisco 
 may make gold up the country, but when they come 
 here, somehow the wind gets hold of it and it is soon 
 scattered." 
 
 "All! Mr. Grimshaw," cried the storekeeper, "is 
 it really your pleasant old-fashioned face I see before 
 me? Shake. This is a pleasure. And the old 
 woman, how is she ? " 
 
 " Just as benign and beautiful as ever. I thank 
 the Lord we both have health. 
 
 " Well, here are a couple of young fellows just 
 out. They won't want much at present, mebbe, but 
 later on. Only they'd like to have some idea of the 
 prices of things." 
 
 This man behind the rough counter and surrounded 
 by laden shelves of all sorts of provisions, and corners 
 filled with pickaxes and shovels, boots, shoes, and 
 what not, was an Englishman, and very civil indeed. 
 
 " Well, gentlemen," he said, " I've got a good 
 supply of mostly everything ; but I must tell you, to 
 begin with, that you won't find food quite so cheap 
 as 3'ou would in Oxford or Cambridge, but some 
 articles are what we call reasonable. 
 
 " Here is rice, sugar, peas, and beans from thirty 
 cents a pound, and bacon only two shillings. But 
 moose hams I can't sell you under five shillings a 
 pound, but rare good stuff it is, and potatoes to go 
 with it, if the best, only two and six for a couple 
 of pounds. 
 
STEAMING Ur THE GREAT YUKON 1 97 
 
 " Flour isn't extra cheap, though, and a hundred 
 pounds will cost you well-nigh three sovereigns." 
 
 " Canned meats are cheap, I suppose ? " said 
 Webb. 
 
 " Well, say about two shillings a pound tin." 
 
 "And salmon must be very cheap?" 
 
 "I dunno. Maybe you'd better catch your own 
 fish. Here is a kippered salmon, look you, and not 
 a very big one, either, but he'll cost you seven 
 shillings ! " 
 
 Wilson Webb opened his eyes somewhat wider, 
 and the Doc. whistled. 
 
 "Well, now," said the former, "I'm fond of a good 
 Ggg- We can get these, I suppose, for a penny 
 each." 
 
 The storekeeper laughed. 
 
 " Tliere are no such things as pennies here," he 
 said, " and even a cent is never seen. It is only an 
 imaginary coin. We deal mostly for gold dust. 
 Those are our scales along the counter, yonder. 
 Eggs, did you say ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " We have two sorts. The ordinary ones I can do 
 at six shillings, and the better class will cost you 
 eight and six a dozen." 
 
 Wilson laughed heartily. 
 
 " I see," he said, " that the sooner we get up coun- 
 try to excavate the pay dirt, the better." 
 
 " That's so, gentlemen ; and good luck go with 
 you. Shake. Your voice, sir, brings back to me 
 
198 STEAMING UP THE GREAT YUKON 
 
 many and many a pleasant scene on far-off English 
 shores. Good-evening." 
 
 After walking about the town some time, they 
 found their way to tlie principal saloon. 
 
 A lively shop, indeed, was this. And the old 
 miner and his young friends were speedily sur- 
 rounded. They must drink. 
 
 " Drinks, landlord, drinks ! " 
 
 Wilson would have preferred something cooling 
 to that fiery old rye, for the evening was close and 
 hot, even outside. But here there was no iced water 
 to be had. 
 
 The landlord shoved three or four bottles and half 
 a dozen glasses towards them. They were suj)i30sed 
 to help themselves, and take just as much or as little 
 as they pleased. And whisky was cheap, if nothing 
 else was. 
 
 " What ! are you a fiddler ? " said the landlord to 
 Wilson, noticing him place his violin-case on the 
 counter. 
 
 "I guess," was the reply, "I could play a little 
 better, than the wretched gut-scraper you've got in 
 your ball-room." 
 
 " Oh, for goodness' sake ! " cried the saloon- 
 keeper, "have another whisky and go in." 
 
 " With pleasure," said Wilson. " I'll play best 
 without whisky, however." 
 
 A dance had just come to a conclusion, as the 
 young fellow stepped behind the bar. 
 
 " I say," whispered the barman, " don't give 'em 
 
STEAMING UP THE GKEAT YUKON 1 99 
 
 too long a dance, 'cause, ye see, it's only between 
 (lances they drink." 
 
 AVilson's fiddling to-night was perfection, and the 
 ball was kept up till long past twelve. 
 
 Tlien the old miner and his young friends went on 
 board to sleep. 
 
CHAPTER XX 
 
 "JACKIE HAS STRUCK THE PAY DIRT " 
 
 " Let us then be up and doing, 
 
 With a heart for any fate ; 
 
 Still achieving, still pursuing, 
 
 Learn to labour and to wait." — Longfellow. 
 
 There was an artificiality about society in Dawson 
 City that was very far, indeed, from being agreeable 
 to either the doctor or Wilson Webb. Both had a real 
 stake in life. To each of them 
 
 " Life was real, life was earnest." 
 
 Moreover, both loved nature, and might have said 
 with Byron in his " Childe Harold " : — 
 
 " I live not in myself, but I become 
 Portion of that around me ; and to me 
 High mountains are a feeling, but the hum 
 Of human cities torture." 
 
 So they were not sorry when they managed to 
 make a start, at last, eastward and away high up 
 beyond Bonanza. 
 
 All went together; all those, I mean, who had 
 become so friendly on board shija. Mr. Grimshaw, 
 the old man miner, had managed, by means known 
 only to himself, to retain not only his claim but his 
 house, during his absence down south, — " inside " 
 
"JACKIE HAS STRUCK THE PAY DIRT" 20I 
 
 the states, — so that all that was to be done now was 
 to reopen. 
 
 The roads to the upper regions of the Klondyke 
 were really no roads at all, only beast tracks. Some- 
 times they led over high and rugged hills, sometimes 
 through dark and dismal woods and forests, or across 
 great, treeless plains, and anon along the bottom of 
 some rocky ravine. 
 
 But the men-folks helped on the ladies ; and after 
 all, I am not sure that, old though Mrs. Grimshaw 
 was, she did not show more courage and cheerfulness 
 than any one. 
 
 Carriage and porterage was an expensive item, 
 but the men had come prepared, and they somehow 
 sincerely believed that fortune lay before them. 
 What mattered a few extra dollars when going to a 
 land where wealth was scattered broadcast, and gold 
 was to be had everywhere for the digging ! 
 
 And now it was arranged that the old lady, with 
 the doctor's wife, should occupy the log-hut, while 
 the men-folks dwelt in tents, until they could pre- 
 pare themselves houses. 
 
 But the anxiety to get on, and to commence work, 
 was paramount and above everything. It was well, 
 indeed, for the doctor and Wilson, that they had made 
 the acquaintanceship of such a trustworthy fellow 
 as old John. There were many little outs and ins, 
 many odds and ends, that only lengthy experience 
 could have taught them, had not John put them up 
 to the ropes. 
 
202 "JACKIE HAS STRUCK THE PAY DIRT" 
 
 And the prevailing trait in young John's charac- 
 ter was good nature. 
 
 He soon got his father's claim under way and 
 once more into working order, and, greatly to every- 
 body's astonishment and delight, it panned out far 
 better than it had done before. 
 
 The Doc. and Wilson Webb had no difficulty in 
 securing claims for themselves, and set to work like 
 men. 
 
 Wilson's was at some considerable distance from 
 the other, and not far from a little mountain stream 
 that did not go dry even in summer. 
 
 But now the curious thing was this, — that is, if 
 in such a place as Klondyke anything can be called 
 curious, — Wilson seemed to become at once the 
 favourite of fortune, while for months and months 
 the poor Doc. had literally no luck at all. 
 
 No wonder he began to get nervous and fidgety, — 
 the worst state of mind it is possible to be in. 
 
 " Keep steadily on," said the old man miner, "and 
 some fine morning you'll find that luck will come, 
 all in a jump." 
 
 "I don't believe," said the poor Doc, "there lies 
 a pdund of pay dirt in the whole of my claim." 
 
 " Nonsense ! " cried the old man. 
 
 "And think what it means to me, with winter 
 but a measurable distance ahead, and I incurring 
 expenses every day; money going out, and no gold 
 coming in. Why, Mr. Grimshaw, the situation spells 
 ruin ! " 
 
"JACKIE HAS STRUCK THE PAY DIRT" 203 
 
 " My dear young fellow ! " cried Grimshaw, ear- 
 nestly enough now; "pray do not let down your 
 heart. Here am I, old enough to be your father, 
 working cheerily from morn till night, taking fort- 
 une as it comes." 
 
 " You are one of the favoured." 
 
 " There are none such. In Klondyke, as in every 
 other land where gold is found, there are ups and 
 downs. Those that lose heart soon sink and fail; 
 but never in all the history of gold-mining, did a 
 persevering man go unrewarded in the long run." 
 
 " Well," replied Dr. Debrett, forcing a smile ; " I 
 thank you for your kindly encouragement. 
 
 " ' 'Tis not ill mortals to command success ; 
 But I'll do more — deserve it.' " 
 
 "Bravo!" said his old friend; "that is spoken like 
 a man. Now, just settle down quietly, and — look 
 here ! vary your work a bit. Begin to build your 
 house." 
 
 And so the doctor did. There was little, if any, 
 night just at present, and Wilson Webb had already 
 commenced his. Luckily, he had plenty of tools, 
 and was a very fair specimen of a carpenter. 
 
 But, to the surprise of everybody, Wilson's house 
 was to be a three-storied one. When asked to ex- 
 plain, he just smiled, and said nothing. 
 
 Dr. Debrett was content with a log-hut of one 
 room, but it was so neatly arranged inside, that it 
 had quite a home look about it. Nor were orna- 
 
204 "JACKIE HAS STRUCK THE PAY DIRT" 
 
 ments wanting nor — mirahile dicta ! — a cushion 
 to the easy-chair, a footstool, and a pipe-rack; so 
 that after coming in from the toils of the day, the 
 Doc. could reall}^ enjoy himself and imagine he was 
 at home. But was he not? Yes, Lilla was the jDre- 
 siding goddess, and the doctor himself would have 
 told you that it was home wherever she was. I do not 
 really know what he would have done without her. 
 
 She not only loved him, worked for him, darned 
 and sewed for him, — these may not be very romantic 
 occupations, but they are exceedingly useful in Klon- 
 dyke, — but she consoled him in her own womanly 
 way, and with her own womanly logic. 
 
 He threw himself into his chair one eveninsr, with 
 a tired sigh. 
 
 And Lilla lit his pipe. 
 
 He took it without a word. Thanks and gratitude 
 were understood. 
 
 " A little weary, dear ? " 
 
 " Weary, Lilla ? Why, my little wife, weary is no 
 word for it. If it wasn't for you, I'd go straight 
 away home again, and make for the city of 'TFe're- 
 all-here.' Hang Klondjdvc ! Here am I, slaving 
 from morning till night, my hands are already as 
 hard as a navvy's, my back aches so constantly that 
 I feel certain I'm getting a stoop, but though other 
 fellows have luck, none comes my way. Is a man 
 old when he feels old, Lilla ? Then I'm ninety-five 
 years nine months and a week. Why, Grimshaw 
 is a mere boy to me ! " 
 
"JACKIE HAS STRUCK THE PAY DIRT" 205 
 
 " Luck will come, dear. We must be patient." 
 
 "But Luck doesn't. The jade doesn't see me. 
 Or she thinks perhaps I ought to be putting legs 
 in splints, extracting bullets, or lancing children's 
 gums, in cowboy town. Bah ! I said to Grimshaw 
 that I'd do more than command success — I'd deserve 
 it. Lilla, that was only just a bit of poetic bluff. 
 I may deserve it a thousand times over. Much good 
 that does, if Luck goes down the other side of the 
 hill." 
 
 "Do you know what I've cooked you for supper, 
 Charlie ? " 
 
 " Oh, Lilla, Lilla ! How like a woman ! When a 
 man is worrying over such weighty matters as gold 
 dust and nuggets, she wants to divert my thoughts 
 to — but what is for supper, dear wee wifie mine?" 
 
 " Two lovely mountain grouse, and bacon ! " 
 
 " Hurrah ! well, I'll sit in." 
 
 And he did. 
 
 And really, judging from the speed with which he 
 reduced one of those beautiful birds to a skeleton, 
 bad luck had not much affected his appetite, any- 
 how. 
 
 Coffee — really good, fragrant coffee, but nothing 
 stronger. 
 
 "Better than all the old rye in the world," he said, 
 as he reseated himself in the easy-chair, with pipe in 
 hand, and his third big cup within easy reach of his 
 hand. 
 
 Lilla sat on a low " creepie " by his side after mak- 
 
206 "JACKIE HAS STRUCK THE PAY DIRT" 
 
 ing up tlie fire, so that she could meud that stockmg, 
 aud lean against his knee at the same time. 
 
 " Charlie dear," she said after a pause, " there is 
 only one thing needed to complete our happiness." 
 
 " Gold ? " 
 
 " No, the cat I " 
 
 " So like a woman, again ! " 
 
 " Yes, but I feel really sorry we didn't bring poor 
 Tim with us. I think I can see him sitting on the 
 footstool yonder, nodding to the fire and singing. 
 
 " It is so soothing and consolatory, you know," she 
 added. 
 
 " Oh, very," he said. He spoke sarcastically. " I 
 suppose if you had the cat, you wouldn't mind stay- 
 ing here all your life." 
 
 " The cat and you, Charlie ! The cat and you ! " 
 
 She looked up in his face very innocently, and he 
 couldn't help bending down to kiss her brow. 
 
 " You're only a baby ! " he said. 
 
 " I'm afraid that is all," said Lilla. " But, heigho ! 
 everybody can't be a man. Can everybody?" 
 
 A few nights after this, Wilson was putting what 
 he called the finishing touches to his " mansion," as 
 the miners had named it, when the doctor strolled 
 in. 
 
 Webb was working by candlelight. He had made 
 thes€ dips himself from the fat of a bear, that one 
 of the boys had killed in a wood hard by. 
 
 The young fellow seemed very happy and cheerful, 
 and was sinpfiner low to himself as he worked. 
 
"JACKIE HAS STRUCK THE PAY DIRT" 20/ 
 
 "Ha! Doc," he cried, "seat yourself, old man. 
 You'll find 'baccy there. How lucky we took a 
 good supply of the blessed stuff! Well, and how 
 do you pan ? " 
 
 " Pan ? " replied the doctor, in a sadly aggrieved 
 tone of voice. " Man alive ! that claim of mine isn't 
 worth shucks. A man might slave away there for 
 a dozen years and not find enough gold to keep him 
 in shaving soap. I'm going prospecting to-morrow, 
 and if I don't find a good thing, why, I'll believe that 
 fate has made a dead set against me." 
 
 "Keep up your courage, Doc. There are good 
 times coming!" 
 
 " Good times, indeed ! Pah ! that is what you all 
 say, you and old Grimshaw and young John, and the 
 whole of you. I'd like to see them, that's all." 
 
 Well, Dr. Debrett and one or two other disap- 
 pointed miners did go prospecting next day, and 
 old Mrs. Grimshaw went to stay with Lilla, and 
 keep her company. 
 
 All round about the neighbourhood, where our hero 
 had settled, there were many claims, and many good 
 fellows hard at work, some drawing blanks, while 
 to others. Fortune, the fickle jade, was dealing out 
 " trumps." 
 
 Well, we cannot all be born with silver spoons in 
 our mouths. Some of us have to be contented with 
 Britannia metal. 
 
 But what I was going to say was this : to each 
 and all of these sturdy miners Lilla was a queen. 
 
20S "JACKIE HAS STRUCK THE PAY DIRT" 
 
 AVhether rich or poor, they woukl have done any- 
 thing for her, and ever when she passed by they 
 stood erect and doffed their grubby hats, and were 
 rewarded with the sweetest of smiles. 
 
 " I had a dream last night," said Lilla, on the 
 second morning after her husband's departure. 
 
 " A dream, dearie ? " 
 
 "Yes, Mammy Grimshaw ; I thought Charlie and I 
 were sailing over a blue, blue sea, in a lovely yacht. 
 Oh, so lovely ! for the decks were mother-of-pearl and 
 the sails of beaten gold." 
 
 Mammy Grimshaw laughed. 
 
 " I hope the dream will come true," she said. 
 
 " Oh, I'm going to make it come true, mammy ! " 
 cried Lilla, merrily. Then she struck a theatrical 
 attitude, with one hand raised on high. 
 
 " This is Charlie's style,"' she said: 
 
 '"'Tis not in mortals to command success; 
 But w e'll do more — deserve it.' 
 
 "But Charlie lets down his heart too soon, and 
 that isn't deserving it, is it ? " 
 
 Then this queer little woman took out of a box 
 a spare mining-suit of Charlie's. Of course they 
 were much too big for her, but she put them on all 
 the same, and made Mammy Grimshaw dispose of 
 the extra longitude in arms and legs with the aid 
 of a darnincr-needle and a stout thread. 
 
 The hat well-nigh buried her ; so she threw that to 
 one side and put on a hood of her own. 
 
"JACKIE HAS STRUCK THE TAY DIRT" 2O9 
 
 Next she got hold of a pick and a shovel, and pre- 
 pared to inarch. 
 
 " 'Tis not in mortals to command success," she said. 
 "But how do I look on the whole, Mrs. Grimshaw?" 
 
 " Very nice, dear." 
 
 " But I'll do more, mammy — I'll deserve it." 
 
 The miners did stare as Lilla passed them on this 
 particular morning, and more than one sturdy fellow 
 went forward to meet her and offered to carry her 
 tools. 
 
 But she thanked him and refused the proffered 
 aid, and hurried on to her husband's claim. 
 
 Now there was one of the boys to whom not only 
 the doctor but Mrs. Debrett had been exceedingly 
 kind. He was a bad bo}', that is true, — a kind of 
 a Klondyke ne'er-do-weel, — thougli I daresay that, 
 like most of us, he had some good in him, deep 
 down. A blue-eyed, bright-faced young fellow of 
 about seventeen, Avho did odd jobs for everybody, 
 but never failed to get the worse for drink when he 
 had a chance. 
 
 He happened to be very much down on his luck 
 on this particular morning, white-faced and hungry- 
 looking. 
 
 He simply doffed his hat and stood before Mrs. 
 Debrett, near to the claim. 
 
 " Well, Jackie, haven't you a word to say? " 
 
 " Can't think of nuffin, miss." 
 
 Jackie was really a London lad. He had been by 
 turns a shoeblack, a paper boy, a boot-lace boy, a 
 p 
 
2IO "JACKIE HAS STRUCK THE PAY DIRT" 
 
 stowaway, and so forth ; but here he was, and nobody 
 would see Jackie starve. 
 
 "Well, run off at once to Mammy Grimshaw's 
 — she's in the doctor's hut — and get something to 
 eat, and be back here in a brace of shakes. Ahem ! " 
 
 Jackie ran like a hare. 
 
 " Brace of shakes ! " said Lilla to herself. " Why, 
 I'm getting quite nautical. So this is hubbie's claim! 
 Dear hubbie ! Why, he's a good way down, and what 
 heaps of stuff all about. Well, I'm going to work." 
 
 And in she went. 
 
 Her hands were red and sore before she had laboured 
 for half an hour. She had to straighten up every 
 now and then to get the kinks out of her back. But 
 she started again every time afresh. 
 
 " Poor Charlie ! " she said, " no wonder he looks 
 weary and old when he comes home." 
 
 But now came Jackie, running. He was a cute 
 lad, and there was nothing he didn't know about 
 mining; only in Klondyke it is simple enough, or 
 was in those days, there being no quartz -crushing. 
 
 Well, those two strange miners slaved awa}^ all 
 day, but without mucli luck. 
 
 Jackie had a good supper, though, and a dollar. 
 He promised faithfully not to touch rye, and he kept 
 his word. So when he turned up the next day at the 
 hut, he was much more bright and cheerful. 
 
 " I'm goin' to be a downright water-bibber," he said. 
 " Goin' to save all my bloomin' skivvies, and by and 
 by, buy a claim, and become a bloomin' millionaire." 
 
HER HANDS WERE RED AND SORE BEFORE SHE HAD LABOURED FOR 
 HALF AN HOUR. 
 
"JACKIE HAS STRUCK THE PAY DIRT" 211 
 
 " Well, I hope you may, Jackie ; but you mustn't 
 say ' bloomin',' because it's a bad word, except when 
 applied to flowers." 
 
 Wonders never cease at Klondyke, and when, that 
 same day, Jackie was seen executing a wild dance all 
 around the cradle and sluice box, now on top of a 
 heap of earth or gravel, now in a hollow, and whoop- 
 ing like an Indian, then says one miner to another, 
 "Jackie's drunk again, Tim." 
 
 " That ain't a drunk," said Tim. " Jackie's struck 
 the pay dirt, or I'm a Dutchman." 
 
 " Let's go and see." 
 
 They went, and Tim was right. 
 
 Jackie showed them a nugget, then Lilla herself 
 produced another, and if either was worth a brass 
 farthing, it was worth two hundred dollars, and more. 
 
 Poor Lilla ! she scarcely could sleep that night for 
 
 joy- 
 When she opened the door next morning, behold ! 
 
 there was faithful Jackie, curled up for all the world 
 
 like a tame coyote, in a big tub lined with straw. 
 
 So sound asleep was he that she had to shake him 
 for nearly a minute before she succeeded in waking 
 him. 
 
 Jackie ad been on watch all night, with a revolver 
 hidden among the straw, but had sunk to sleep at 
 last. 
 
 " Poor lad ! " she said, and went away to make his 
 breakfast, and her own. 
 
CHAPTER XXI 
 
 "A NEW SORT OF SAUCE? — GOLD ! " 
 
 "Gold! Gol.l! Gold! Gold! 
 Bright and yellow, hard and cold ; 
 Spurned by the young, but hugged by the old 
 To the very verge of the churchyard mould." 
 
 — Hood. 
 
 It was quite a fortnight after the discovery of those 
 splendid nuggets before Dr. Debrett returned. Lilla 
 was getting very uneasy about him indeed, Avhen, 
 one evening, soon after sundown, travel-stained and 
 weary, he dragged himself up to the door of his hut. 
 
 I daren't attempt to describe the joy of that meet- 
 ing. But Mrs. Grimshaw went quietly home. She 
 was not needed any more for the present. 
 
 Then more dry wood was heaped on the fire, and 
 Lilla, with her sleeves rolled up, and looking quite 
 " wifey," as the Doc. expressed it, proceeded to cook. 
 
 Jackie had taken an hour off, and had brought 
 some beautiful mountain trout home. 
 
 "And you don't ask me, Lilla dear, if I've had any 
 luck this journey." 
 
 " Oh, no, Charlie. I can read disappointment in 
 your face ; but never mind, dear. No, never mind ! " 
 
 " Of course not," answered Charlie, with some 
 
"A ^'E^V SORT OF SAUCE? — GOLD!" 213 
 
 degree of bitterness and irony. " Of course I won't 
 mind. I rather like the situation. Starvation is one 
 of the best things in the Avorhl, and ragged clothes is 
 next nicest. And winter coming on too I Capital ! 
 
 "But, I say, Lilla, where on earth have you been 
 with your hands ? They're as hard and brown as old 
 John's. Been grubbing among the pay dirt? Eh? " 
 
 Lilla didn't answer. 
 
 She just laughed a little, dished the trout, and then 
 going to a box in the corner, took therefrom two 
 heavy pickle-bottles, and placed one at each side of 
 her husband's plate. 
 
 "What in all the world have you got there, dear? 
 Some new sort of sauce? Eh?" 
 
 Then he took up a bottle. 
 
 " What a weight ! Wliy I I say, Lilla ! Wh-wh- 
 why, lass, this is Gold ! " 
 
 Then Lilla sat down on her husband's knee, for 
 just half a minute, to receive her reward in — tlianks. 
 
 The sleeve of her best gown was resting lovingly 
 on top of the fried fish, but that didn't seem to signify 
 one little bit, back nor fore. 
 
 " Well, well, well ! " cried the Doc, when he had 
 eaten nearly all the trout, and lit his pipe. " Why, 
 wonders will never cease I Lilla, you're a jewel! " 
 
 And high up in those curling wreaths of smoke, 
 the good doctor could see once more visions of the 
 beautiful home lie luid promised himself, and the 
 beautiful yacht on sea. 
 
214 "^^ NEW SORT OF SAUCE ? — GOLD ! " 
 
 The doctor's claim kept well to the fore ; so did 
 that of Wilson Webb; but 'the Grimshaw diggings 
 somehow came to a sudden close. They had struck 
 a rocky kind of quartz, and the old man miner 
 determined to give up for a bit. 
 
 But young John had too much energy in him to 
 be easily downcast. 
 
 He got a fresh claim, and commenced digging on 
 his own account. But winter had come now in 
 downright earnest, and so work was doubly hard 
 and tiring. 
 
 The stimulus to gain gold, however, more and more 
 gold, kept both the doctor — with Jackie to help — 
 and Wilson Webb, working whenever it was possible. 
 Washing was out of the question, but they secured 
 the dirt just the same. The miners here were 
 honest. Had any one been caught pilfering from a 
 neighbour's claim, rough, indeed, would have been 
 the handling he would have received from his 
 brother-miners. 
 
 If thieves had stolen anything, I do not think it 
 would have been gold, but food ; for some of these 
 poor fellows were hard enough pushed now, and as 
 the weather got worse, these, having no provisions, 
 made up their wealth in packages, and started off 
 down west to Dawson City. 
 
 As I am telling a plain, unvarnished tale, I need 
 not trouble to conceal the truth. Well, then, to 
 return to Dawson was about the worst move these 
 miners could have made. For here they had to 
 
"A XEW SOET OF SAUCE ? — GOLD ! " 21 5 
 
 live in common lodging-houses, at tremendous ex- 
 pense, and pay for everj-thing they ate or drank 
 with their hard-earned gold. 
 
 An idle life is an irksome one ; and many of them 
 sought for mental relief by smoking all day long, 
 and by appearing every night at the alluring dance, 
 the drinkino--bar, and the o'amblincr-table. 
 
 Then, when spring began to return wdth floods 
 that washed away the snow, quite a large percentage 
 of these unhappy men succumbed to illness. 
 
 These would never dig again; nevermore handle 
 pan or pick or shovel. 
 
 It was even suspected that more than one of 
 them, overwhelmed with despair, hastened their 
 own ends ; though this is almost too terrible to 
 believe. 
 
 When spring came back in reality, and all in a 
 jump, as some miners described it, Wilson Webb 
 announced his intention of leaving Klondyke. The 
 rumour spread abroad, and more than one speculator 
 offered to bu}^ his claims and pay him handsomely 
 in nuggets. 
 
 "• No," he said, " no ; I am going home with a 
 purpose, but I shall retain my claims " — he had 
 taken up tliree, though he worked but one — "I shall 
 retain my claims, and my house as well, because 
 I'm coming back, and that, too, I hope, long before 
 the summer has ended." 
 
 Perhaps Wilson was speaking without his host. 
 That host was a compound one, and composed, if so 
 
2l6 "A NEW SORT OF SAUCE ? — GOLD ! " 
 
 I may word it, of the steamboat, the ice, the wind, 
 and the weather generally. 
 
 However, he packed up. Young John promised, 
 and so did the doctor, to give a look at Wilson's 
 diggings and claim once a week, at least. 
 
 And so with hurried farewells, with a heart full of 
 hope, and gold in his boxes, galore, our hero Webb 
 departed. 
 
 There was ice on the river, but it was in floating 
 streams, and the steamer was a strong one, and so 
 could give those baby icebergs points in speed of 
 floating, and beat them hand over hand. 
 
 We, the readers and author, have the wings of 
 imagination and so can fl}^ faster even than the 
 albatross, and thus we get back to England long 
 before Wilson Webb has reached the mouth of the 
 
 Yukon. 
 
 ***** 
 
 Now those two boys, Laurie and Ernest, felt just, 
 as sure of going out to Klondyke, to make their 
 fortunes, after they received that long letter from 
 their dear friend Wilson, as they felt certain of the 
 sun rising the day after to-morrow. 
 
 The letter to Ernest and Laurie — for it coupled 
 both their names — was quite a business one, but 
 most friendly and generous. Here is a bit of it, read 
 by Laurie himself one beautiful spring morning, b^^ 
 the banks of the stream, and with interested and 
 sparkling-eyed Leebie looking over his shoulder. 
 
 " Well, you lads must be seventeen now, and 
 
"A XEW SORT OF SAUCE ? — GOLD ! " 217 
 
 beo-un again, and my wee favourite, Leebie, is mebbe 
 wee no longer. Fifteen is not old, I confess. How 
 I wish I were fifteen once again I But a girl of 
 fifteen isn't a baby, so Leebie must not shed more 
 than about ten teai-s when I take you boys back 
 with me to Klondyke. It will be just too awfully 
 jolly for anything. And somebody else is going 
 back with me, too — you would never guess — " 
 
 ''Tm going for one," cried Leebie, interrupting. 
 " Perhaps you would guess tliat^ boys ? " 
 
 " You've heard me speak of Madeleine Peters," the 
 letter ran on. " Well, we are both going to be mar- 
 ried, yes, the whole lot of the two of us are to be 
 married, — for I shall marry Maddie, and ^Liddie is 
 going to marry poor me." 
 
 " Anybody could have guessed that," said Leebie, 
 nodding her pretty head. "And I shall go out as 
 Maddie's maid. Oh, I'm determined to I " 
 
 " Well, boys," the letter continued, " I'll be with 
 you mebbe a week after you get this, unless unfore- 
 seen circumstances determine my stay in the city of 
 
 C — .'• 
 
 " Ha 1 ha 1 " Leebie laughed, roguishly. '^ I know 
 what that means. I know. I know. 
 
 " Don't I. Towsie ? Don't I, Currie ? " 
 
 From the capers those two dogs now cut, it really 
 looked as though they had been listening to the read- 
 ing of that long letter, and fully understood every 
 word of it. 
 
 And even Neddy must lift up his voice and laugh, 
 
2l8 "A NEW SORT OF SAUCE ? — GOLD ! " 
 
 with a " ITaw-hee " and likewise a " ^ee-haw," till 
 the echoes rang from wood and brae. 
 
 Well, Farmer Lea was a very easy-going farmer, 
 indeed, and Mrs. Lea was a true English farmer's 
 wife. Contented and hajDpy always — till now, and 
 even now they could see no objections to Laurie going 
 out to Klondyke. He would be in good hands, and 
 the boy must do something, for the farm hardly 
 paid. 
 
 But, ah ! to think of Leebie wanting to go with 
 him ! 
 
 Dreadful ! 
 
 Leebie would never return. No, they could not 
 spare her. 
 
 This was the situation when Wilson Webb and his 
 young bride turned up one day at the farm. 
 
 Now, Farmer Lea had known Wilson before and 
 had a high regard for him, but Madeleine he had 
 never yet seen. Her sweet young face, and that 
 bonnie bride's bonnet, took the honest farmer's heart 
 quite by storm, however. 
 
 The young folks could only stay for a day, the}'' 
 said, but Lea had told them that day must extend to 
 a week, and they consented. 
 
 Leebie Lea was not slow to see that this would be 
 for her advantage. 
 
 She enlisted Maddie's services in pleading her 
 cause. 
 
 "If 1/021 can stand Klondyke," she said, "so, I'm 
 sure, can /. So do get father to let me go." 
 
"A NEW SORT OF SAUCE ? — GOLD ! " 219 
 
 "I'll do my best, dear," said Maddie ; "you may 
 rely on that." 
 
 " And you are really going to Klondyke," said 
 Lea after dinner that evening. " You, so young, so 
 tender ! Oh, Mrs. Webb, you will never, never re- 
 turn ! Ice and snow all the year round. Surely, you 
 will not venture I " 
 
 But Wilson Webb laughed heartily. 
 
 "Why," he said, "the tenderest child can stand 
 the climate of Klondyke. In fact, children are 
 there, and ladies too. Tlwi summer, the spring, and 
 even the autumn are charming; blue skies and fleecy 
 clouds, birds singing in every woodland and grove, 
 and wild flowers everywhere. During these seasons 
 it is, indeed, a land to be loved, and the winters, 
 though somewhat dark and dreary, are really no 
 worse than they are in the far north of Scotland." 
 
 "Is that really so? But then, are not the hard- 
 ships to be endured very great while getting there ? " 
 
 "No ; not by any manner of means, when one goes 
 about it in the right way. Then think of the fort- 
 unes to be made ! Here, in this country, — which 
 really is played out, — all is a struggle and a grind, 
 simply to make ends meet, and even this is often 
 impossible. 
 
 " So long as a man is young, Mr. Lea, he can fight 
 for life against adverse fortune, here in England ; but 
 when old age begins to load him down, tinge his hair 
 with grey, and bow his slioulders, the struggle is all 
 unequal. It was but the other day, sir, I heard a 
 
220 "A NEW SORT OF SAUCE ? — GOLD ! " 
 
 man, holding- a good position in commercial life, 
 make this remark : ' I care not how soon I die.' 
 
 " ' What I ' I said, ' are you tired of life already ? ' 
 
 '"No, no,' he replied; 'the love of life but in- 
 creases with years. But I have all I can do even 
 now to live, and old age would be for me but one 
 long, lingering death.' " 
 
 " Well," said Lea, " I'm fifty ; I daresay I am a 
 little too old for Klondyke ! " 
 
 Then Wilson Webb told him all about the old 
 man miner and his wife.. 
 
 Mr. Lea looked at his wife. 
 
 "Shall 2ve go, dear?" he said. 
 
 "Naj', nay, husband," she answered. "I wouldn't 
 exchange my dear old English farm for life in a 
 heathen land, where ne'er is heard the chime of 
 Sunday bells, for all the gold in Ophir." 
 
 "No more would I," said Lea. "Light my pipe." 
 
 But so prettily did Mrs. Webb play her cards that 
 at last Farmer Lea consented to let Leebie go with 
 her, on the promise that if, on her ariival in Klon- 
 dyke, she did not like the place, or was homesick, 
 Wilson himself should come all the way, straight 
 back with her. 
 
 ***** 
 
 But there was the question of expenses to be con- 
 sidered as far as Laurie and Ernest were concerned. 
 This was soon got over. 
 
 " I owe my life and my liberty to these boys," said 
 Wilson, speaking most earnestly now, " and as some 
 
"A NEW SORT OF SAUCE ? — GOLD ! " 221 
 
 return for so great a favour, they must permit me to 
 pay their passage and journey to Klondyke. And 
 if pride prevents them from accepting this as a free 
 gift, then I will respect their feelings. They can 
 pay me back from the gold they dig from their 
 claims the first year." 
 
 Then Ernest brought Wilson to see his father. 
 
 There was not the slightest difficulty about obtain- 
 ing his consent. 
 
 " By all means," said the jolly old English squire, 
 "let the lad go out. If he doesn't make a fortune, 
 why, he can only fail. Fm not sure that, morally 
 speaking, failure won't be as good for him as fortune. 
 What do you think yourself, my son ? " 
 
 " Think I " replied Ernest, with sparkling eyes, as, 
 boylike, he encircled his father's neck. " I couldn't 
 tell you all I think. Only just one thing, — you're 
 the best and dearest of daddies, and if I had my way, 
 an Act of Parliament should be brought in to have 
 all fathers built on the same model, and that would 
 be yours." 
 
 "Well," said the squire, laughing, "mind you 
 take care of my lad, ]\Ir. Webb, and, by the way, you 
 may just as well come and dine with us to-night, and 
 bring Mrs. Webb and Mr. Lea's children ; they and I 
 are old friends. 
 
 " Who knows," he added, " that I shan't take a 
 run out to Klondyke myself, after hearing you 
 dilate a little further on its golden glories." 
 
 "No, no, dadd}', we won't have you. Providence, 
 
222 "A NEW SORT OF SAUCE ? — GOLD ! " 
 
 you know, didn't make Klondyke for English 
 squires : only for younger sons." 
 
 " Good-morning, Llr. Webb. Six o'clock. We 
 are all early people here." 
 
 "Six o'clock, with pleasure, sir." 
 
CHAPTER XXII 
 
 A sportsman's paradise 
 
 " Fur and fecather, heath and heather, 
 Birds and beasts in bush and tree, 
 With rod and gun, with sport and fun, 
 Alaska is the land for me." — Alaska. 
 
 Six o'clock precisely ! 
 
 Well, it was, i:)erhaps, an early hour for society 
 people to dine. But the squire was old enough to 
 be entirely independent of society and its customs. 
 And he was there himself to meet his guests, his 
 brave, broad bosom heaving under an expanse of 
 what the miners would call " starched shirt " ; his 
 jolly red face beaming with smiles, tliat half hid his 
 kindly eyes. 
 
 Well, Mrs. Elliot was there also; a dear little 
 woman, people said who knew her best, only nobody 
 would have gone so far as to say she was tlie squire's 
 better half. And when she graced any public enter- 
 tainment with her presence, she was referred to by 
 the local reporters simply as the squire's lady. She 
 belonged to the non-assertive class, which very many 
 ladies do not. 
 
 " Why, what have you got there, Mr. Webb ? " said 
 the squire. 
 
 223 
 
224 A SPORTSMAN'S PARADISE 
 
 " Oh," said Ernest, " I made him bring that." 
 
 And he took Wilson's violin-case and placed it on 
 the hall-table, as he spoke. 
 
 " That," said Wilson, " is ni}'- first wife, and though 
 you would hardly call me a bigamist, I am happy to 
 say she is still alive." 
 
 The dinner was a very great success, not exactly 
 from a culinary point of view, for the squire did not 
 retain the services of a French cook, but because 
 every one was so happy and cheerful, and it really 
 did the squire's heart good to look at the joyous, 
 beaming young faces of the children, as he persisted 
 in calling Ernest, Laurie, and Leebie. 
 
 But for a whole hour, if not more, after dinner, the 
 squire kept Wilson Webb all to himself, and kept him 
 talking too, mostly about the wonderful river, the 
 river Yukon. 
 
 Wilson having gone down the mighty stream — 
 which, by the way, is in some places over five miles 
 from bank to bank — as well as up it, and having 
 amassed a whole portfolio of views thereof, which he 
 had brought with him to-night, was no mean author- 
 ity *on the subject. 
 
 And Wilson was tremendously enthusiastic, and a 
 portion of this enthusiasm communicated itself to the 
 squire. 
 
 " Heigho ! " he said, " I'd like nothing better, I do 
 believe, than to be a 3'oung man, with nothing much 
 belonging to me except a pick and a spade and a 
 gun. 
 
A SPORTSMAN'S PARADISE 22$ 
 
 " Why, making one's fortune," he added, " all by 
 one's own exertions, must be more exciting by far 
 than even football — Rugby rules I " 
 
 " It is, sir," said Wilson, " and I've tried both. 
 But at the lowest estimate, the output of gold from 
 these regions will soon be greater than that, from all 
 the other regions of the earth combined. It is 
 scarcely to be computed in figures, and lucky, indeed, 
 will they be who are there in time." 
 
 Then he described to his earnest listener all the 
 strange but beautiful, though often dreary scener}^, of 
 the Yukon ; especially in its upper regions, with its 
 mountains, its hills, and its multitude of islands, too 
 numerous far to be even counted. 
 
 Wilson Webb was nothing if not a naturalist; 
 even the Avild flowers found on the river banks and 
 in the glens appealed to his very heart. They were, 
 every one, a poem. 
 
 " Just after you start to steam up the river, the 
 scenery may be somewhat uninteresting, though half 
 covered in haze, as it often is, it has a look of 
 mystery about it that makes one long to land and 
 explore. 
 
 "But even here on the banks grow the silver saugh, 
 stunted alder, and several species of willows, where 
 birds abound in springtime. With the rattle of the 
 engine you may not be able to hear them, but with 
 your glasses they may be seen. About opposite to the 
 head of Norton Bay, and just where the river begins 
 to flow from the east, we encounter lovely woods." 
 Q 
 
226 A SPORTSMAN'S PARADISE 
 
 " Ah ! it is there I should like to be," said the 
 squire, lighting a fresh cigar. 
 
 " Well, sir, as you would expect, the trees are 
 mostly — with the exception of the cotton wood — 
 just those you meet with in Scotland, and the silver 
 birches on the braes are exceedingly beautiful. And 
 as in Scotland, berries grow everywhere wild in the 
 woods, — blaeberries, raspberries, sj^lendid cranber- 
 ries, cro wherries, and even currants." 
 
 "A good country for sport, I suppose ?" 
 
 " Yes, I was coming to that. Though, mind you, 
 sir, with the prospect of getting gold for the gather- 
 ing higher up, he would be a very enthusiastic sports- 
 man, indeed, who would think twice about either fur 
 or feather. 
 
 " Well, whetlier bears are or are not to be ranked 
 as fur, there they are — plenty of them, — brown, 
 black, and grizzly, and very far north, the gigantic 
 Avhite bear himself. 
 
 " Then there are all sorts and — I was almost 
 saying — sizes of foxes, — the red fox and the black 
 fox, and higher up the real Arctic or white fox, but 
 these latter, I am of opinion, are only white in 
 winter. 
 
 " There are otters, also, in abundance on every wild 
 stream : and they tell me there are beavers, as well, to 
 be found, but I have never seen them. I mentioned 
 the black fox, sir, but that is really the pekan or 
 fisher marten. 
 
 " Then the wolverene, I am sure, would interest any 
 
A SPORTSMAN'S PARADISE 227 
 
 one. It looks like a little bear, though its face is 
 that of a dog with a high domed skull. It would be 
 easier to say what it doesn't eat than what it does. 
 It is a very great enemy to the birds, its claws en- 
 abling it to climb the highest trees. It will even 
 attack cattle and reindeer." 
 
 " Well, are the reindeer common on the Yukon ? " 
 
 " Not very plentiful. 
 
 "But there are plenty of wolves, and they come 
 down in winter, their tracks often being found near 
 the huts. And, of course, there are marmots and 
 rabbits too, in abundance. 
 
 " The grizzly is found among the mountains, and 
 my own experience is that, unless you are spoiling 
 for a tight, it is best to give him a wide berth. 
 
 "The brown bear of these regions is quite a char- 
 acter, in Avhatever way you consider him. He has a 
 hobby of his own, and that is fishing. Moreover, he 
 is an epicure in his way, and will only eat salmon, 
 and that, too, the best and cleanest. He is very 
 fierce, moreover, and many terrible fights take place 
 ever}^ year between the Indians and these monsters. 
 
 "Nevertheless, the brown bear has his uses, for 
 if a traveller follows his trail, he will not go far 
 wrong; he will find all the easiest travelling and 
 the best fords, — always, however, having to keep his 
 weather eye open, in case of meeting Mr. Bruin 
 himself. And Mr. Bruin always stops to question 
 one. 
 
 " Well, away on the more mountainous districts, 
 
228 A SPORTSMAN'S PARADISE 
 
 big game is found, — deer, moose, sheep, goats, and 
 caribou." 
 
 " Well, Mr. Webb, you speak for all the world 
 like a book, and the wonder to me is, that you don't 
 write one ! " 
 
 " Oh," said Wilson, laughing. " I'm going to." 
 
 " But, you haven't said a word about feathers 
 yet." 
 
 "No, sir; nor fish. 
 
 " Well, then," he continued, " the higher regions of 
 the Yukon, and all around, are, during the short, but 
 delightful, summer season the home of more birds 
 than can easily be imagined. But they are nearly 
 all emigrants, either from the states of America, or 
 from the far north. For here we find the snow-bunt- 
 ing, or snow-flea, as Greenland sailors call it, and 
 that loveliest gull in all creation, the snow-bird 
 whose plumage rivals the driven snow in its purity 
 and whiteness. Warblers are in very great abun- 
 dance, and wrens of various sorts. 
 
 " But, sir, one should scarcely expect to find the 
 humming-bird here, but here it is, nevertheless, 
 flitting from wild flower to wild flower, and sip- 
 ping its sweets. We have bobolinks, also, and gros- 
 beaks, and, later on, grouse, wild duck, teal, etc., and 
 as many as one cares to shoot 
 
 " Trout swarm in the lakes, and in every brown pool 
 of every mountain stream ; and 1 fear I should be 
 accused of telling a mere sailor's yarn, if I mentioned 
 how many the Indians sometimes haul out in a single 
 
A SPORTSMAN'S PARADISE 229 
 
 hour, with the most ordinary and simple of hshing- 
 gear. 
 
 "And as to salmon, why, the Yukon has probably 
 more than any other river of its size in the known 
 world. 
 
 "We miner people, however, have little time or in- 
 clination to fish. All our thoughts are on gold, gold, 
 gold!" 
 
 " Well, Mr. Webb, I don't altogether blame you ; 
 for hunting for treasure must become a kind of mania, 
 even as gambling does, after a time. But neverthe- 
 less, you have been describing a sportsman's paradise. 
 How I should like to be there with rod and gun ! 
 
 " But come,"' he continued, " my good fellow ; we 
 want to see your first wife." 
 
 " You shall, sir, and hear her too. Probably Mrs. 
 Elliot will preside at the piano." 
 
 Mrs. Elliot did, and so the evening passed quietly 
 and pleasantly away. It was one to be remembered 
 long, long after this, when those who sat m the 
 squire's cheerful drawing-room that evening were far, 
 far away in the wilds of Klondyke. 
 
CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 OVER THE SEAS, AND OVER THE LAND 
 
 *' Ye gentlemen of England, 
 Who live at home, at ease. 
 Ah ! little do you think upon 
 
 The dangers of the seas." — Old Song. 
 
 *' Come wander with me, for the moonbeams are bright 
 
 On river, in forest, o'er mountain and lea." — Jeffreys. 
 
 Why, the emigration of our young friends was 
 quite an exodus. 
 
 It is really a difficult thing for an author to deal 
 with so many heroes and heroines. He is thus handi- 
 capped and just a little bewildered, as the circus rider 
 must feel, who goes hooping round the sawdust 
 stage, riding on one beauty, and driving half a score 
 before him. 
 
 Well, to say nothing of the two boys, — young 
 fellows, then, — Wilson Webb, with his happy little 
 wife, and Leebie, who seemed happier than anybody, 
 here on board tins ocean greyhound is the English, 
 wall-eyed, but wise, old bob-tailed sheep-dog Towsie 
 and daft, droll little Currie. Nominally, these dogs, 
 while on board, were in charge of the cook. Really 
 and truly, they were in Leebie's charge, and nobody 
 else's. 
 
 230 
 
OVER THE SEAS, AND OVER THE LAND 23 1 
 
 "I don't know," said the chief mate, "that I can 
 permit your dogs, miss, to come running aft. Dogs 
 are generally kept shut up, most of the time." 
 
 " Oh, captain ! " pleaded Leebie, most prettily, 
 " Towsie and Sir Duncan Currie have been used to 
 run wild on the prairie, — I mean the moor, — and if 
 shut up, they would die. Then, captain, so would I." 
 
 I think the chief officer rather liked being styled 
 captain, and then Leebie was such a beautiful girl. 
 He spoke lower now, and bent down towards her as 
 he said : — 
 
 " Do pretty much as you please about it," he said, 
 " but don't get me into hot water, if possible. I 
 will pretend not to see them, and I'll tell the other 
 officers to do the same." 
 
 " Oh, thank you, thank you ; it is so kind ! " 
 
 So the two dogs had far more liberty than is gener- 
 ally granted to animals of the race canine when 
 crossing the broad Atlantic. 
 
 At first, Towsie and Currie were observed to be 
 holding little consultations together, concerning the 
 peculiarity of the circumstances under which they 
 were placed. 
 
 " I say, Currie, old man," said Towsie, on the very 
 first morning the}^ were let out for a dance, " I say, it 
 does seem funny, don't it?" 
 
 "Seems to me, Towsie," replied Currie, "we're 
 going somewhere, and if it wasn't that master and 
 mistress were both here, I wouldn't half like it." 
 
 "Well, I'm sure I don't, and I'd feel far more at 
 
232 OVER THE SEAS, AND OVER THE LAND 
 
 home among the heather. The liouse keeps moving 
 so, too, and outside all the world is water. Besides, 
 my head is swimming so, Currie, and I can't stand 
 nor walk across the floor without almost falling. But 
 here comes the servant with breakfast." 
 
 They were fed and felt better. 
 
 " I say," said Currie, " there are some things in 
 this world that even dogs can't understand, vastly 
 superior in intellect though they be to men beasts 
 as a general rule." 
 
 " True, Currie, true." 
 
 " Well, Towsie, my philosophy is this : ' what ye 
 can't understand, don't worry over.' Care killed a 
 cat, Towsie, so what do you say to a scamper? There 
 isn't any grass or flowers growing here, but never 
 mind. I'm off." 
 
 He was off indeed, and so was Towsie, round and 
 round and round the decks in a wild, daft, inde- 
 scribable kind of a scamper, and though they often 
 fell, they soon got up again. It is true that Towsie 
 collided with a boy carrying a huge dish, brouglit 
 the lad to the deck, smashing the dish and scattering 
 about a score of crisp brown sausages in the lee scup- 
 pers. A trifle like that did not signify a bark to 
 either Currie or Towsie. They ran till tired, then 
 trotted aft to the quarter-deck, where it was a deal 
 drier and more pleasant, and commenced to make 
 acquaintances among the saloon passengers. In tliis 
 they were most successful, especially with the chil- 
 dren ; so it is no wonder that before the vessel was 
 
OVER THE SEAS, AXD OVER THE LAND 233 
 
 three days out, the "twa dogs" were the greatest 
 favourites on board. 
 
 Leebie had onl}^ one grief. She had not been able 
 to take Bobbie and Neddy with her. But she hoped 
 to meet them again when all her wanderings were 
 over; and she was determined to present both these 
 pets with patent-leather harness mounted with Klon- 
 dyke gold. 
 
 ***** 
 
 Well, there was a long and even dangerous jour- 
 ney before our people yet, before they should reach 
 the Land of Gold. 
 
 Wilson Webb was, of course, captain-commandant 
 of this brave expedition, and after his arrival at 
 New York he had to consider and choose one of two 
 routes, and there was no one with whom he might 
 consult. 
 
 If you have a map of the world, reader, — and a 
 very handy aid to one's memory such a broad sheet 
 is, — you will easily find Lake Winnipeg, that majes- 
 tic inland sea that lies a long way south and west 
 of Hudson's Bay. 
 
 Had Wilson taken his party there, he could have 
 gone by railway to Vancouver, and thence across 
 the water to Victoria, and thence again to Juneau 
 by boat. For Wilson meant to take the overland 
 route this time from the mining-town of Juneau. 
 
 But he had never crossed British America, and had 
 an idea that the journey through the United States to 
 San Francisco would prove far less tiring to the ladies. 
 
234 OVER THE SEAS, AND OVER THE LAND 
 
 Wilson really proved himself a good general. And 
 he did what every traveller should do before com- 
 mencing a long journey to a foreign land: he kept 
 a note-book by him night and day, — literally lashed 
 himself to it, as sailors say, — and herein he jotted 
 down every idea as it occurred to him, and the name 
 of every article of the outfit that must be taken. He 
 was unlikely, therefore, to forget anything that should 
 prove really serviceable or tend to the comfort of his 
 wife and friends ; and even the dogs were not for- 
 gotten. 
 
 Of course, he showed his wife this note-book now 
 and then, and she gave him many suggestions that 
 proved ultimately valuable. 
 
 Well, the lighter articles of the outfit were nearly 
 all purchased in England ; and they found an im- 
 mense saving by so doing. Other things were 
 bought in New York itself and San Francisco, and 
 odds and ends at Juneau, even. 
 
 Although anxious enough to get on, Wilson could 
 not resist the pleasure of letting his crew, as he 
 called them, have a peep at the wonders of New 
 York. So he made a three days' stay in this splen- 
 did city. 
 
 The hotel was not only comfortable, but quiet and 
 homelike ; and instead of dining in the main room, 
 they managed to get private apartments, to which 
 even Towsie and Currie were not denied admission. 
 
 Wilson determined to leave nothing undone, to 
 make the exceedingly long and somewhat hazard- 
 
OVER THE SEAS, AND OVER THE LAND 235 
 
 ous journey have all the charms of a picuic for 
 Maddie and Leebie. 
 
 " We, boys," he told Ernest and Laurie, as they 
 sat together in the verandah one evening, "could 
 rough it. We are strong and hardy and cool. More- 
 over, we are temperate ; and I think we are just 
 about as brave as most Englishmen, or Scotchmen, 
 either. But," he added, "women-folks are women- 
 folks, you know. I am going to do, and am doing, 
 just about all I know to prevent a breakdown." 
 
 " You don't fear it ? " said Ernest. 
 
 " No, I don't fear it, because Maddie is strong and 
 happy — oh, there is a deal in that I And our Leebie 
 has all the expectancy, the dash, and the courage of 
 youth to keep her up. Nevertheless, a harsh wind 
 shall never blow on them, if I can keep it at bay. 
 
 " Well, boys, I don't really think that we shall be 
 out a year, altogether; still, I have taken an outfit 
 for two, and Ave shall take provisions, also, for two 
 years. Maddie has chosen the rig-out — winter and 
 summer — for herself and Leebie ; and reall}', I must 
 confess that it is not only comfortable, but even 
 beautiful. I did not credit Maddie with such good 
 taste, as regards fur garments and head-dresses, as she 
 really has. Oh, she is really clever ! 
 
 " But," added Wilson, " I did not consult her as 
 regards clothing for you boys, and for myself. And 
 those garments for which you were measured, and 
 the material of which you left to my choice, you will 
 find just the things for Klondyke." 
 
236 OVER THE SEAS, AND OVER THE LAND 
 
 " Yes, and Laurie, here, and mj-self wondered why 
 you were so particular about a fit." 
 
 Wilson laughed. 
 
 "Because, my boj-, I've been there," he laughed, 
 "and happen to know that comfort is only gained by 
 having garments that, though loose, fit well. We 
 have all got working-suits of stout jean, with work- 
 ing-pants and boots. Yes, and I have laid in the 
 wherewithal to mend these latter ; for I assure you, 
 lads, you will often have to be your own cobblers as 
 well as your own tailors. Needles, thread, scissors, 
 buttons, and all paraphernalia of that kind, I laid in 
 while in London, with sweaters, socks and stockings, 
 towels and toilet outfit, and even tents. These are 
 easily and neatly packed in the waterproof bags, in 
 which some sorts of easily damaged provisions will 
 ultimately be stowed. We will procure more furs 
 at Juneau or Dyea, where the Indians make and 
 sell them ; but I have taken out from Encrland half 
 a dozen eider-down quilts, and sleeping-bags, also. 
 These last I had to have made. They are of water- 
 proof canvas, lined with fur. 
 
 " Often and often have I slept out all night in 
 these, even in the wildest weather. 
 
 " But I'm not done yet. I have no less than a dozen 
 pairs of blue-glass spectacles to prevent snow-blind- 
 ness. Pretty gU3^s we shall all look with these on, I 
 must own, but what's the odds, so long's you're happ}- ? 
 
 " Then I have the best camera outfit that could be 
 purchased in London." 
 
OVER THE SEAS, AND OVER THE LAND 237 
 
 "And guns?" said Ernest. 
 
 "Yes; I have a good rifle and good fowling-piece 
 for each of us, to say nothing of revolvers ; but these 
 won't be needed, boys, for there is very little 
 rowdyism, indeed, even in Dawson City. 
 
 "And I have some fishing-tackle. Not much, 
 though, because the Indians can procure us all we 
 want in that direction. 
 
 " But I'll tell you what I made a note of, before 
 I left Klondyke to come home, and that was mos- 
 quito curtains. With these and Dr. Debrett's won- 
 derful antidote, our lives will be a real pleasure all 
 the way through. 
 
 " Well, I have taken a note, also, of all the tools 
 we shall need ; but these we can purchase where we 
 buy our provisions, namely, at San Francisco." 
 
 While Wilson Webb was talking. Sir Duncan 
 Currie was sound asleep on Laurie's knee, but 
 honest Towsie stood by the speaker's side, with his 
 chin resting on his leg, and gazing up into his face 
 with loving intelligence, as if he understood every 
 word that was said. 
 
 Wilson put his hand on the dog's head at last. 
 
 "No, my good Towsie, I haven't forgotten you, 
 either. Yourself and Currie will have plenty to eat 
 and drink, and far more fun and romping than ever 
 you could have enjoyed in England." 
 
 Towsie heaved a sigh. 
 
 " And I have bought you and Currie a waterproof 
 blanket, or jacket, each ; besides towels, all for your- 
 
238 OVER THE SEAS, AND OVER THE LAND 
 
 selves, combs, and brushes, and, last but not least, a 
 pair of strong, sharp scissors." 
 
 " And what may these be for ? " said Ernest. " To 
 pair their nails ? " 
 
 "No, 3'oung fellow, but to cut away the hair 
 between the toes, else it speedily gets balled in 
 snow time, and the dog is then rendered sore- 
 footed, lame, and useless." 
 
 Well, in course of time, our brave little band 
 found itself safe in 'Frisco. Here Wilson received 
 a hearty welcome awaiting from many old friends, 
 and was obliged to stay nearly a week. 
 
 Here, again, Wilson gave proof of his good gen- 
 eralship ; for, retaining only the food and things that 
 were absolutely necessary for the overland journey 
 from Juneau north and away to the gold regions, 
 and for a month's stay at the claims, he had all 
 heavy stores carefully packed and sent by sea to 
 St. Michael's. They would be conveyed thence up 
 the river to Dawson City, and met there by the 
 young miners themselves. 
 
 They arrived, at last, in Juneau by boat, without 
 a single adventure, and without encountering even a 
 heavy sea, far less a storm. 
 
 But they met many a slowly melting iceberg, the 
 cold breath of which told them what sort of a 
 countr}' they might erelong expect to come to. 
 
 The summer was far advanced, by the time they 
 reached Juneau, but they hoped to arrive at the El 
 Dorado in good time to begin the digging, nevertheless. 
 
OVER THE SEAS, AND OVER THE LAND 239 
 
 Juneau is a town on the mainland or level ground, 
 but backed by high mountains and certainly not 
 devoid of the picturesque in appearance. A strag- 
 gling sort of a place, which, with its whisk}^ saloons, 
 its dancing-halls and gambling-hells, put Wilson in 
 mind of Dawson City itself. 
 
 However, tliere was no time to waste in criticising 
 it. Northwards now on a very uncomfortable little 
 steamer as far as Dyea. Maddie and Leebie had 
 heard a deal about D3'ea, and quite expected to find 
 it a large and flourishing city. On the contrary, it is 
 but a small trading-post up a creek, inhabited chiefly 
 by Indians. 
 
 But these Indians proved to be very handy, in- 
 deed, and it was not very long before a bargain was 
 struck with them, and they agreed to carry all the 
 packages safely northwards as far as Wilson should 
 wish. 
 
 To their credit, be it told, that though very far, 
 indeed, from prepossessing, these Indians weie hardy, 
 strong, cheerful, and willing, 
 
 They had to be well paid, however. 
 
 Well, Lake Lindeman, or Lindermann, is about 
 five and twenty miles from Dyea, over the terrible 
 Chilcoot Pass. 
 
 It was not to be supposed that Maddie and Leebie 
 could walk this trail. 
 
 Indeed, Wilson Webb had arranged that they 
 should walk only very little, indeed. 
 
 He had brought a very large packet from San 
 
240 OVER THE SEAS, AND OVER THE LAND 
 
 Francisco to Juneau, and thence to Dyea, and when it 
 was undone and fitted, lo, and behold ! a very com- 
 fortable palanquin, not unlike those used in India, 
 only far lighter and broader. 
 
 The two ladies could sit in this, side by side, and it 
 was borne by four Indians on two long, light bamboo 
 poles. Moreover, it could be shut up by windows on 
 either side. 
 
 This contrivance, for the construction of which 
 Wilson deserved no small kudos, was plentifully 
 lined with furs and had pillows on which to rest the 
 back and head. 
 
 Waggons and horses might possibly have accom- 
 plished the first eight miles of the zigzag road, that 
 led along the banks of a brawling stream. 
 
 They were bound for Sheep Camp, where a halt 
 is to be made for the night. 
 
 Both Ernest and Laurie found all their work cut 
 out when they began the ascent up through the woods 
 that grew on the rocky mountain sides. They were 
 not really in proper Alpine form, and they were not 
 Scots. 
 
 But they were brave young Englishmen, and far 
 too courageous to think of complaining. 
 
 To Wilson, with his stout heart and his iron mus- 
 cles, the task was as easy as it was to the Indians 
 themselves ; at some of the more difficult parts, more 
 strength had to be bent on to the palanquin poles, 
 and for this purpose loads had to be left behind. 
 
 With a stout stick in his hand Wilson walked 
 
OVER THE SEAS, AND OVER THE LAND 241 
 
 along by the side of the " palkee," talking and laugh- 
 ing with its occupants, both dogs keeping close to 
 his side, as if on guard. , 
 
 Indeed, neither Towsie nor his little companion, 
 Currie, liked the look of these Indians, and told each 
 other so. 
 
 " There is no sa3^ing, Currie," said Towsie, " what 
 they mightn't do. They might throw them over a 
 rock or run right away with them. Well, Carrie, 
 mind this : if I see anything suspicious, I'll give a 
 bark, then we shall both attack in the rear. You 
 are to go for their calves, because you're not big ; but 
 I shall fix my teeth in something higher up, and, my 
 ej^es, Currie, won't I make them squirm just I " 
 
 Well, there was little likelihood of those Indians 
 running away with the " palkee " during the ascent, 
 at all events ; and so, after a hard struggle, they 
 reached Sheep Camp, and here they determined to 
 pass the night. 
 
 The Indians, who were accompanied by some of 
 their squaws, had brought their own food and blan- 
 kets ; the " palkee " would be the sleeping-berth of 
 the ladies, and the men-folks would pass the houis 
 of darkness in their sleeping bags. 
 
 While Wilson prepared a warm dinner, cooked in 
 real gipsy fashion, Maddie and Leebie, glad enough 
 to stretch their legs, went for a stroll, accompanied 
 by tlie boys and dogs. These latter were wdld with 
 joy, bounding over rocks and boulders, dashing into 
 the woods, and disappearing as if they never meant 
 
242 OVER THE SEAS, AJTD OVER THE LAND 
 
 to return ; reappearing again grinning from ear to 
 ear, so full of joy and gladness that it made every- 
 boc^' happy to look at them. 
 
 Laughing and chatting gayl}^, our friends wandered 
 on until they reached an eminence from wliich the 
 view on either side was very impressive. 
 
 Away to the north and the east and north were 
 jagged, serrated mountains, on the snow-clad summits 
 of which the setting sun was throwing a glorious 
 flood of crimson light, the shadows a pale, pale 
 blue. 
 
 To the west was a canon, and far away splendid 
 glaciers. Southwards, when they looked beneath 
 them, was the everlasting woods, but far away the 
 tranquil ocean itself, asleep in the evening sunshine. 
 
 The silence was very impressive, broken onl}- by 
 the strange wailing cries of birds or beasts ; they 
 knew not which. Both dogs were panting and tired, 
 and they, too, appeared awed by the silence and soli- 
 tude of their surroundings. 
 
 They got back to camp just as the shadows of 
 night were falling; falling and filling up the canon 
 and glens. 
 
 Sound, indeed, was the sleep of every one to-night. 
 I may probably except tlie dogs, however, one of 
 whom slept at each side of the ''palkee," an arrange- 
 ment suggested, I believe, by Towsie himself. 
 
 But ugly though they certainly were, those Indians 
 were faithful enough. 
 
 Nevertheless, when our heroes were awakened next 
 
OVER THE SEAS, AND OVER THE LAND 243 
 
 niorning before it was quite light, and found a bright 
 fire of wood burning not far off, with a hissing frying- 
 pan over it, for a short time at all events, while they 
 rubbed their eyes and looked at each other, Laurie 
 and Ernest would have given something to know 
 where they were in particular. 
 
 The odour of that frj-ing-pan was very inviting, 
 however; so they quickly wriggled clear of their 
 sleeping-bags, and then memory returned to them 
 all at once. 
 
CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 ON THE GREAT LAKE-CHAIN 
 
 Anon. 
 
 " Hurrah ! my lads, we'll build a raft, 
 A strong, substantial, sturdy craft." — 
 
 " Row, brothers, row ; the stream runs fast, 
 The rapids are near and the daylight's past." — Moore. 
 
 The struggle over that wild pass, which com- 
 menced soon after breakfast, was a terrible one ; and 
 there is really no use in denying it. 
 
 For far over a thousand feet the climb was both 
 steep and dangerous. Maddie and Leebie were now 
 much too frightened to remain in the palkee, even if 
 it had been possible to lug the contrivance to the top 
 of the mountain, they being inside. It was, accord- 
 ingly, left at a place called Stone House, with the 
 heavier packages, as it took all the power the Indians 
 possessed to assist the ladies and dogs up the fearful 
 slope. 
 
 The Scots talk of " a stout heart to a stey brae." 
 
 Well, this brae was more than stey ; and the word 
 ' stey," I may inform Englishmen, means steep multi- 
 plied by ten. 
 
 The climb was, moreover, somewhat zigzag, as 
 the Indians took it, and at times steps had to be 
 
 244 
 
ON THE GREAT LAKE-CHAIN 245 
 
 formed. But it Avas really wonderful how bravely 
 those girls bore up. 
 
 As for Leebie, I do think that she w^as far more 
 coneerned about the dogs, than about her own safety. 
 
 1 must tell you how these last were got up. Dogs, 
 as a rule, are bad Alpine elimbers ; so Laurie stopped 
 at the top of the canon until the Indians, after seeing 
 Maddie and Leebie safe, had returned. Then, much 
 to their surprise, Towsie and Currie were tied up, 
 each in a sleeping-bag, and thus carried to the 
 summit. 
 
 Were their trials and dangers at an end now? 
 Nay, indeed; they were really but beginning. 
 
 There was six miles of snow to be crossed, and 
 the wild descent to Lake Lindeman to be negotiated. 
 Though there was but little wind blowing, — there 
 always is a bi'eeze on the mountains, by the way, — 
 still the little there was made it piercingly cold. It 
 was a cold that searched one to the very marrow ; 
 cold that no clothing could protect one from. 
 
 A long rest had to be made ; and while Maddie 
 and Leebie were glad to seek for shelter and warmth 
 among their furs inside the palkee, Wilson took 
 advantage of the halt, boiled water in a spirit-lamp, 
 and made some beautiful coffee with essence and 
 condensed milk. While they sip the warming and 
 delicious tin mugful which Wilson hands to each, 
 they talk of the terrible climb they have had ; and 
 no wonder they shudder a little as they think of it. 
 
 From the rocky walls called Stone House I think 
 
246 ON THE GREAT LAKE-CHAIN 
 
 I have guessed the ascent at about one thousand 
 feet. I am told now it is nearly, if not quite, double. 
 
 The glaciers that towered skywards, precipitous 
 walls of glittering ice, were really a grand but awful 
 sight. 
 
 But now the long and dangerous descent to the 
 lake was commenced. It was fully nine miles from 
 the summit of the pass, and the greatest care had to 
 be taken of the palkee, into which Maddie and Leebie 
 had once more tremblingly ventured. This had in 
 reality to be lowered down for a great part of the way. 
 
 To begin with, there was snow, but this soon got 
 soft and slushy. 
 
 I am sure that during this fearful descent, Wilson 
 was far more anxious than the occupants of the 
 palkee themselves. The Indians kept it back with 
 ropes from behind, while others walked in front, if 
 walking it could be called. 
 
 But more than once our hero's heart seemed 
 almost to stand still with dread, as the palkee 
 showed signs of taking charge. 
 
 Had it done so, or had it once got way on it, its 
 speed would have increased every moment. No 
 power on earth could have stayed its fearful rush, 
 and those above would have had to witness its com- 
 plete destruction and the dashing to pieces on the 
 rocks of its inmates. 
 
 When they reached Crater Lake at last, it was no 
 wonder that Wilson breathed a heartfelt prayer of 
 thanks for their safety. 
 
ON THE GRExVT LAKE-CHAIN 24/ 
 
 Despite all danger and difficulty, however, after 
 passing several otlier small lakes and fording a 
 stream or two, Lake Lindeman was reached well 
 on in the afternoon, and preparations at once made 
 for going into camp for a few days. For a raft has 
 to be built, so that this delay is inevitable. 
 
 It is usual here for Indians to return, but such 
 stiong, hard}', and willing fellows were they, that 
 Wilson determined to retain their services for a 
 time. And they made no objections, plenty of 
 'baccy being allowed them, as well as their wages. 
 
 Not far from the spot where our people rested 
 was another camp, a kind of semi-permanent one ; for 
 here not only provisions but pitch could be bought. 
 
 Well, this last Wilson believed would come in 
 handy, as he looked forward to having at least one 
 boat to build. 
 
 It should be remembered that they had still about 
 five hundred and sixty miles of a journey before 
 them, ere they could reach, by the chain of lakes 
 and by the Lewes River, which is really the head 
 waters of the Yukon, the land of gold they were 
 going to. 
 
 Just think of it, reader, as you scan these pages 
 of mine ! Nearly six hundred miles of one of the 
 wildest countries it is possible to imagine, down 
 streams, along lakes, through passes and rapids, 
 through gloomy forests, where wild men wandered, 
 and wild beasts too ! As long this journey would be, 
 or nearl}', as from London to Aberdeen ! 
 
248 ON THE GREAT LAKE-CHAIN 
 
 However, our party had one stroke of luck here at 
 " tent-town," — they found a boat for sale. The 
 owner had overworked himself, taken ill, and died. 
 
 It is not supposed to be lucky to sail in a dead 
 man's boat, but Wilson Webb was far, indeed, from 
 being superstitious, and as the boat w^as a good one, 
 very strong and newly pitched, he readily closed 
 with the offer, and so two weeks at least were saved. 
 
 After they had got over the first fatigue of the 
 journey, Maddie and Leebie here brightened up con- 
 siderably. 
 
 They told Wilson that they did not mind the rest 
 of the journey one little bit. 
 
 "I do believe," said Wilson, " that, after all, women 
 are just as brave as men, or nearly so." 
 
 " Oh, indeed ! " said Maddie, pouting, or pretending 
 to, "and I believe that they are often much braver." 
 
 Her husband laughed. 
 
 " I confess," he said, " I was in a terrible funk as 
 we were descending the mountain — and all for you 
 children." 
 
 " Well, I'm sure," said Leebie, " that neither 
 Maddie nor I were in the slightest degree afraid. It 
 was just a sort of tobogganing, 3-ou know." 
 
 Wilson shuddered a little. 
 
 It would have been a fearful kind of tobogganing, 
 he thought, had the palkee got beyond control. 
 
 One night as our three heroes were soundly sleep- 
 ing in their bags, a terrible " hallabaloo " arose. 
 Towsie and Currie had got hold of some wild beast 
 
ON THE GREAT LAKE-CHAIN 249 
 
 or wild being, and were doing their best to tear it to 
 pieces. 
 
 The sound of worrying and tlie shrieks, roused 
 every one, and Wilson soon wriggled clear of his 
 sleeping-sack. 
 
 It was a lovely night, and so far north were they 
 that scarcely was it dark now. Anyhow, there was 
 a half-full moon shininor clear in the west and stars 
 twinkling overhead. 
 
 "Down, dogs, down! Down, Towsie ! Currie, 
 come here I " 
 
 Wilson M'as rushing towards the scene of conflict 
 as fast as he could. 
 
 " Oh I ah ! me deaded. Me too much deaded, foh 
 true. Oh ! ah ! oh I " 
 
 It was a Chilcat Indian, and Wilson could see at 
 a glance that he was not sober. Fact is, that he had 
 crawled towards the utilitv box, as it was called, 
 broken it open, and helped himself liberally not only 
 to rum but to methylated spirit. 
 
 The spirit was warm enough, in all conscience, but 
 when they found him, Towsie and Currie had made 
 it warmer for him still. His compatriots also had 
 been roused, and forthwith they tied him to a tree in 
 a very unceremonious manner indeed. 
 
 " He a' righ' now, sah, foh true," said the chief ; 
 " to-moUo' mo'ning we squashee he ver goot. Damn ! " 
 
 I'm sorry to put so bad a word in the page, but 
 Quilquah spoke it with such force that down it had 
 to go. 
 
250 ON THE GREAT LAKE-CHAIN 
 
 A very wretched Indian, indeed, was Kanuk next 
 morning when dragged before his boss. He was 
 never a beauty, but cringing and begging for mercy, 
 he was worse-looking now than before. The bard of 
 Avon tells us that 
 
 "Sweet Mercy is nobility's true badge." 
 
 He also tells us in words as beautiful as any in our 
 language, that 
 
 " It is twice blest : 
 It blesses hiin that gives and him that takes," etc. 
 
 Well, I fear that Quilquah had not studied his 
 Shakespeare. Perhaps it was not to be found in the 
 lending library to which he belonged. 
 
 Anyhow, he displayed none of the qualities of 
 mercy ; for Kanuk was quickly tried and quickly con- 
 demned, and the execution of the sentence followed 
 speedily after. 
 
 Kanuk was hurried away into the adjoining wood, 
 and for the next few minutes, except for the shrieks 
 that could be heard after the sound of every blow, 
 one would have thought there were girls down there 
 beating carpets. 
 
 Kanuk was finally ordered to take himself back at 
 once to the coast, and his chief quietly requisitioned 
 his pay, for liis own personal use. 
 
 But now work began in earnest, and tlie making of 
 a log-raft, strong enough to stand a voyage down the 
 great waterway to Klondyke, was really no joke. 
 
 Never mind, with the assistance of the Indians, 
 
ON THE GREAT LAKE-CHAIN 25 1 
 
 rough, sizeable trees were cut down, lopped, and 
 carried down to the water's edge. Here they were 
 piled up, until it was believed that quite enough 
 were got together. 
 
 Then commenced the building of the log-raft. 
 Maddie and Leebie said they were sorry they could 
 not help, but were assured by Wilson that they were 
 entirely mistaken, as, if they chose, they could materi- 
 ally assist. 
 
 " Oh, do tell us how I" cried impulsive Leeb. 
 
 '' Why, just b}^ looking on." 
 
 Well, log after log was floated well out and lashed 
 together, the first two being anchored. 
 
 It was weary work, and wet work too, for they 
 had to wade into the water ; and although it was sum- 
 mer, cold, indeed, did it feel in that lake. 
 
 The mosquitoes, moreover, gave them some con- 
 siderable trouble, and Wilson Webb's prescription — • 
 that he had received from the Doc. ^ was in great 
 request. 
 
 AVhen one deck was built, another lot of logs was 
 lashed crosswise over it, and even a third. It was 
 now tried, but it was found that when weighted 
 down with human beings, it was still too low ; so a 
 fourth deck was added, and when this w^as done, the 
 raft was quite a serviceable affair and, apparently, 
 strong enougli to defy both rapids and rocks. 
 
 Lake Lindeman is only five miles long, and is 
 joined to Lake Bennett by a stream hardly a mile long, 
 but of very great rapidity. 
 
252 ON THE GREAT LAKE-CHAIN 
 
 Laurie, with a considerable deal of luggage, one 
 Indian, and the two dogs, occupied the boat. The 
 ladies were on board the raft, with Wilson and 
 Ernest and all the rest of the baggage. 
 
 Now Laurie would have rushed the rapids, if he 
 had not been persuaded not to by Quilquah. It 
 was certain death, he assured him ; so the boat was 
 beached and skidded along to the next lake by the 
 Indians. 
 
 Meanwhile Maddie and Leebie were told they had 
 better land and take their places in the boat, as the 
 danger of an accident was very real. 
 
 Ernest and Wilson had poles, it is true, but so fear- 
 ful was the speed of the tumbling stream that steer- 
 ing was very difficult indeed. 
 
 They refused to go on shore, however, and soon 
 the raft takes the plunge, with a rapidity, too, that 
 makes ever}^ one's head whirl. 
 
 " Hold fast, Maddie ! Hold fast, Leebie ! " shouted 
 Wilson. 
 
 He struck at a boulder here and a boulder there, 
 as she went dashing on. 
 
 It seemed for a time that nothing could save her, 
 and when she struck a submerged rock, from which 
 the water immediately lifted her off. however, she 
 shook and trembled like — as Ernest afterwards 
 graphically expressed it — an old clothes-basket. 
 Wilson expected that she would go to pieces. 
 
 But thanks to her sturdy build, she did not, and 
 in a wonderfully short time she was rushed into 
 
ON THE GREAT LAKE-CHAIN 253 
 
 Lake Bennett itself. Here the raft turned round 
 and round, like a tee-totum, giving those on board a 
 kind of circular panorama of the wild scenery around, 
 that was somewhat confusino- to behold. 
 
 This Lake Bennett is the first of the chain of such 
 sheets of water, joined together by streams much in 
 the same way that the great Caledonian chain of 
 locks is by its canals. We have first the Naves Lake, 
 then what is called the Windy Sleeve, or Windy Arm, 
 of Lake Tugish, then the real Lake Tugish, and fol- 
 lowing this, Mud Lake, sometimes called Lake Marsh. 
 
 Now this chain of lakes, with its connecting streams, 
 is called the "still-water route." This is certainly 
 misleading, for our party found the water very far, 
 indeed, from being still; only there were no cataracts. 
 
 But terrific squalls were at times encountered, and 
 twice the boat in which Laurie was had been all but 
 capsized, very much to the terror of Maddie and 
 Leebie on the raft. Had she gone down, he would 
 have been drowned before their eyes. But their own 
 danger was considerable, although they seemed to 
 think little, if anything, about this. Even to run on 
 shore on the muddy edge of a lake, would have de- 
 layed the journey for weeks. 
 
 The distance from the head of Lake Bennett to the 
 lower end of INIud Lake is about seventy-three miles, 
 and danger threatening the party all the way. Li 
 fact, owing to the suddenness with which dirty 
 weather or squalls may come up, one can never feel 
 safe on this lake-chain. 
 
254 O^ THE GREAT LAKE-CHAIN 
 
 But at long, long last tliey are out of Mud Lake 
 itself, and have entered the river Lewes. 
 
 On they sweep ; somewhat more cheerily now. 
 
 Oh! but I do not want to give a wrong impression, 
 and must admit that they were cheery most of the 
 time ; and when the weather was fine, when it was 
 all plain sailing, as it were, many a capital song was 
 started by Wilson, — rolling sea or boating songs, as 
 a rule, that well suited the scenery and the occasion. 
 Maddie and Leebie never failed to chime in with 
 their sweet, girlish voices, and Laurie himself drew 
 nearer to the raft, that he, too, might join. 
 
 For, gliding on and on like this, in boat and raft, 
 might be compared to sailing through life's stream 
 itself. On that stream all our boats are floatins:, at 
 present. We may not know, clearly, where we are 
 sailing to, and storms may often arise, but we are 
 happy, most of the time, and we are steering all the 
 time by a star. 
 
 The name of that star is Hope. 
 
 The Indians that Wilson had still with him were 
 now only two ; the rest were paid off, and had gone 
 back. One was with Laurie ; the other, Quilquah 
 himself, was acting as guide on board the raft. 
 
 "Now that the lakes are all behind us," said 
 Maddie, " I am sure, Quilquah, our danger is all over." 
 
 " The twoof [truth] I talkee, Missie Maddie. Big 
 lie all samee debbil. No muchee goot. We come 
 plenty quick, now, to Pale Hoss Rapids. No fear, 
 Quilquah plopah guide, foh twoo [true]." 
 
ON THE GREAT LAKE-CHAIN 255 
 
 The rapids the chief referred to were those about 
 four and twenty miles down-stream from ]\Iud Lake, 
 at a place called Miles C'aiion. 
 
 And the danger in rushing the stream here is very 
 great indeed. 
 
 It is a case of minutes only, however, and is a 
 great saving in time. 
 
 It must be confessed that Wilson Webb's heart 
 beat high with anxiety, as he neared the cauon. 
 Ernest crept nearer to Leebie, as if to protect her. 
 
 Laurie himself, in his sturdy boat, showed the way. 
 He kept to the right, and was soon dashing on, and 
 out of sight. 
 
 More slowly did the raft glide now. 
 
 But soon they are entering the fierce and awful 
 current, that has swept so many brave fellows to 
 death and doom. 
 
CHAPTER XXV 
 
 AT HOME IN KLONDYKE — A BEAR ADVENTURE 
 
 " Oh, I hae seen great anes, and sat in great ha's, 
 Mang lords and maiig ladies, a' covered wi' braws; 
 But a sight so delightful, I trow, I ne'er spied 
 As the bonnie blithe blink o' my ain fireside." — Burns. 
 
 Although considerably short of a mile in length, 
 Miles Canon is, without doubt, a dangerous and fear- 
 ful rapid. 
 
 The mountains here rise up into precipitous cliffs, 
 forming a gorge or cailon, so that the river is nar- 
 rowed till it is scarcely fifty feet from side to side ; 
 although above the dreaded rapids, it has a breadth 
 of fully four hundred yards. The rocks at each side 
 are dark and perpendicular. With the terrible sj^eed 
 on boat, or raft, even to touch these fearful walls 
 would mean destruction. 
 
 It takes but five or six minutes to sweep through, 
 but these seem hours, so great and fearful is the 
 tension on one's nerves. 
 
 Right in the centre, or half-way down, is the 
 White Horse Rapid, so called because the stream 
 widens somewhat here, and is tossed back again, in 
 froth and foam, from the narrow entrance to the 
 
 256 
 
AT HOME IN KLONDYKE 257 
 
 second part of the canon, giving a fanciful resem- 
 blance to the mane of a wild horse. The foam is 
 increased from the fact that the water dashes and 
 curls around and over boulders, with a noise that is 
 confusing, deafening. 
 
 Wilson will always believe, as long as he lives, 
 that but for his forethought in taking the Indian 
 "boss"' with him, he never could have safely rushed 
 these rapids. 
 
 Nor do I think he would attempt to do so again, 
 with his wife on board, for all the gold in Klondyke. 
 ***** 
 
 But both boat and raft are out into the broad river 
 at last, safe and sound. 
 
 To say that Wilson was grateful and thankful to 
 God, would hardly describe correctly the state of his 
 feelings. For some time, indeed, he would not have 
 trusted himself to speak for a good deal, nor to 
 glance round at his wife and Leebie. He just kept 
 gazing ahead. Then he waved his hand to Laurie. 
 
 But as soon as he could swallow the big lump in 
 his throat, he turned to iNIaddie, and said with 
 assumed carelessness : — 
 
 " You weren't afraid, were you ? " 
 
 " Just a little, this time." 
 
 " xVnd you, Leebie ? " 
 
 The girl's eyes were overflowing with tears, and 
 when Ernest patted her hand, down they came fast 
 enough. She made no attempt to hide those 
 tears. 
 
258 AT HOME IN KLONDYKE 
 
 " I'm SO glad," she said at last, " that Laurie is 
 safe. I thought — -oh, I thouglit we might pass his 
 boat all smashed, and poor Laurie — " 
 
 She put her hands to her face, now, as if to shut 
 out the terrible, though imaginary, picture. 
 
 Well, the rest of the voyage was comparatively 
 safe and easy ; but they encountered more than one 
 squall ; and one rapid, also, had to be negotiated, but 
 after their fearful experience at Miles Canon, it gave 
 them but little concern. 
 
 Dawson City — and crowds rush down to meet 
 them, to welcome Wilson back again, and wish the 
 newcomers luck and joy. 
 
 Even Towsie and Currie had a part in that hearty 
 welcome ; and when they got their feet on shore 
 I feel quite certain that there were not two happier 
 dogs in Dawson City. 
 
 Well, in a place like this, with an ever-fluctuating 
 population, one need hardly be surprised at anything 
 that may happen, even in a few months' time. 
 
 Wilson Webb, therefore, was not astonished at all 
 when among the first to greet him was Mr. Grim- 
 shaw himself, " the old man miner." He was look- 
 ing very happy and jolly, indeed. 
 
 " We saw you coming down," he said, " and my 
 wife set about getting everything ready to receive 
 you." 
 
 "My dear fellow," answered Wilson, "I am, 
 indeed, pleased to meet you. It is so unexpected, 
 but, on the whole, so delightful. Now let me intro- 
 
AT HOME IN KLONDYKE 259 
 
 duce you to my wife and friends. We must not 
 stop a day, however."' 
 
 " Nonsense, Wilson Webb I nonsense I The boat 
 will be in shortly and all your stuff. Remember 
 you wrote and told me." 
 
 ''Yes." 
 
 " Well, she isn't far down-stream. Come on, 
 ladies; bring the dogs and all. 
 
 " Yes," he continued, as they walked towards a 
 snug little bungalow on the outskirts, "me and my 
 missus are done with Klondyke. We've done well 
 since you left, and we've enough money now to set 
 up house again in Chicago and keep finer horses 
 than ever. Ah I lad, it will be our turn now, and 
 I mean to make those pig-stickers, who turned their 
 backs on us because we were poor, sit up. You bet ! 
 Ha I here comes Mrs. Grimshaw to meet us." 
 
 " And young John? " Wilson inquired when they 
 had all got seated. 
 
 " Oh, he's up-stream. Claim is working fine again, 
 and John will keep it on." 
 
 " And the Doc. and his wife ?" 
 
 " Eh ! dear, dear," said Grimshaw, sadly ; " now you 
 liave struck a hard pan, ni}- bo}^ Oh, what a weary 
 world it is at best ! But why doesn't death take the 
 old ones and spare the young and the beautiful ? " 
 
 " Death ! You don't mean to say — " 
 
 " But I do. Poor Mrs. Debrett is buried not a 
 quarter of a mile from where we sit. It was a terri- 
 ble thing, and cast a srloom over the whole of Dawson 
 
26o AT HOME Ds KLONDYKE 
 
 City. An accident, you know, and it happened not 
 over a mouth ago. 
 
 '•You remember the lad Jackie that she be- 
 friended?" 
 
 " I do right well." 
 
 " He is dead too. Died a hero's death, poor fellow. 
 You see the Doc. was away for a day or two, pros- 
 pecting. He always was restless, and, as usual on 
 such occasions, Jackie slept in a tub among straw not 
 far from Mrs. Debrett's log-hut door. He used to 
 pride himself in being her guard and sentry. Well, 
 one dark night Jackie was awakened by a wild, ter- 
 rified shriek, and could see at once that the log-hut 
 was in flames. He blew a shrill whistle he carried, 
 to alarm the miners in the neighlx)urhood, and soon 
 they came rushing towards the hut, to render assist- 
 ance if they could. 
 
 "They found Jackie wild with orief and dashingr 
 himself against the door, which, being lx)lted within, 
 all his strength could not force open. 
 
 '* • Oh, my poor, dear mistress ! ' Jackie was cry- 
 ing ; ' so kind and gentle, so good to wicked me ! ' 
 
 "A few blows from a pickaxe were sufficient to 
 burst in the door, but a gush of flames and black 
 smoke sent them reeling back. 
 
 " Jackie, however, did not retreat. On the con- 
 trary, he made a dash and a rush for the doorway. 
 
 '• Heigho ! he was never seen alive again. The 
 hut — which they think had been set on fire from 
 the explosion of an oil lamp — was soon a heap of 
 
AT HOME IN KLONDYKE 261 
 
 hot cinders, and in the early dawn the bodies of botli 
 Mrs. Debrett and Jackie, sadly charred, were dragged 
 from the ruin. 
 
 " From the position in which Jackie lay, it was evi- 
 dent he liad made an attempt to drag the poor lady 
 to the doorway, and had fallen dead over her body." 
 
 "And ni}^ poor, brave friend, the doctor?" said 
 Wilson. " Oh, I dread to ask about him I" 
 
 " He — he is gone." 
 
 "Dead, too?" 
 
 " Nay, lad, 'tis worse than death. His mind has 
 given way. As often as not he is wandering among 
 the woods and glens. No one knows how he lives, 
 or what he subsists on. Only now and then he 
 appears in camp to tell of wonderful gold finds in 
 some creek or other, which has no existence save in 
 his dazed and darkened brain. But it is sad to hear 
 him sit by a log-fire among the miners and tell of 
 the treasures he is going to carry back with him to 
 far-off San Francisco, where he thinks he has left his 
 wife." 
 
 "Heighol" sighed Wilson; "that is, indeed, bad 
 news." 
 
 " Poor Mrs. Debrett," said Grimshaw, solemnly ; 
 "there is some consolation in thinking that she 
 could not have suffered long, nor could she have 
 suffered much. And we have all to die." 
 
 This was Grimshaw's philosophy. 
 
 Well, in a place like Dawson City even tragedy 
 itself makes but little lasting impression on people's 
 
262 AT HOME IN KLONDYKE 
 
 minds, and Mrs. Debrett and her husband also were 
 soon forgotten. 
 
 Not by Wilson Webb, however ; for the Doc. and 
 he had been very great friends, indeed. 
 
 But even now Wilson was not without some hope. 
 No springtime, it is true, can e'er revive the ashes of 
 the urn. Yet the Doc. might get well ; that was the 
 thought which helped to cheer our chief hero wlien 
 he at last settled down with his friends in Klondyke. 
 
 There is nothing like work for curing worry, noth- 
 ing like work for banishing grief and care, and now 
 commenced a season of the hardest toil that ever 
 Wilson had known. 
 
 And not only for him, but for Ernest and Laurie 
 too. 
 
 All his traps and provisions, which Wilson had 
 shij^ped at 'Frisco; had arrived safe and sound, and 
 were stored partly in a hut built specially for them, 
 and closely adjoining the three-roomed mansion, as 
 it was called, and partly in a cache. 
 
 But there was a vacated hut to spare. This now 
 belonged by rights to sturdy young John, because it 
 was that in which his parents had dwelt. He himself 
 preferred occupying the one-roomed shanty he had 
 built himself, and so the boys, as they were usually 
 called, were permitted to take up their quarters in 
 the other. 
 
 Ernest had the good luck to acquire a fresh claim, 
 and not only his but Laurie's turned out marvel- 
 lously well. 
 
AT HO^IE IN KLOXDYKE 263 
 
 I have not a stronger adverb than " marvellously " 
 handy, else I should use it, because of all the claims 
 in Klondyke those belonging to the boys were ad- 
 mitted to be the best. 
 
 The brief but warm summer had now worn to a 
 close, and the mornings and evenings of the shorten- 
 ing days Avere already keen and cold. 
 
 The work all round went on as merrily as ever, 
 notwithstanding. 
 
 And Wilson's party were as happy as any one could 
 be in so forlorn a country, and with the prospects of 
 a long, dreary winter before them. 
 
 The main room in the mansion was particularly 
 cosy of an evening. It was large, and the fire that 
 burned on the low hearth would have done any one's 
 heart good to gaze upon. 
 
 This hearth was a triumph of Wilson's skill, en- 
 ergy, and engineering. It was laid with stone ; there 
 was a semicircle of stone and cement behind it, and 
 the smoke and sparks found their way up a funnel and 
 into an iron pipe or chimney, so that there was not 
 the sligfhtest danger from fire. 
 
 How different all this was from the miserable little 
 iron stoves in other shanties, it would have been 
 difficult to conceive unless one had seen both. 
 
 Well, it was the invariable custom for the boys 
 to drop in after the evening meal, and join the 
 magic circle around that cosy and homelike fire- 
 place. 
 
 Sometimes young John came too. Whether he did 
 
264 AT HOME IN KLONDYKE 
 
 or did not, his seat and his corner were always 
 reserved for him. 
 
 How were the evenings spent ? Well, Wilson liim- 
 self, being the oldest, was relegated to the easy-chair, 
 and it was pleasant, indeed, to see him sitting there 
 listening to the merry conversation, and occasionally 
 taking his pipe from his lips and joining in. Some- 
 times Maddie, his wife, would bring the violin and 
 place it in his hands, and however tired he might be, 
 he never refused to play when she told him to. 
 
 Yes ; the boys would be tired of an evening, but I 
 wish to inform all whom it may concern, that there 
 are two species of tiredness, — the nervous kind and 
 the muscular. The first is far from agreeable ; but 
 rest soothes the latter, and this kind of tiredness is 
 really rather pleasant than otherwise. 
 
 Well, " the girls " always liad knitting and sewing 
 to attend to of an evening, so until the early bedtime 
 
 "The time flew by wi' tentless heed." 
 
 It is no wonder, therefore, that everybody was as 
 fresh as a mountain trout of a morning. And every- 
 body had an excellent appetite too. 
 
 The days got shorter. But Ernest and Laurie 
 continued to have their morning swim, and they 
 determined to keep it up until they should be frozen 
 out of the river. 
 
 This river or stream was several hundred yards 
 away from their shanty ; so after getting up and light- 
 ing the stove, in scanty attire they ran all the way 
 
AT HOME IN KLONDYKE 265 
 
 to their bathing-pool, and quickly undressing, plunged 
 in. 
 
 The glorious feeling of exhilaration which they ex- 
 perienced after five or ten minutes of splashing and 
 swimming, was worth a king's ransom. This last is 
 merely a figure of speech ; for, as a matter of fact, I 
 have no idea what a king's ransom is, though some 
 of the kings we read of in history, would have been 
 precious dear at any price. 
 
 But early one morning, the two boys had a very 
 strange adventure, indeed. Though it had its hu- 
 morous side, it was none the less alarming. 
 
 The water on this particular morning was consid- 
 erably colder than usual ; for a high, nor'land wind 
 was raging through the spur of the forest, in which 
 their swimming-pool in the river lay. 
 
 It wanted nearly an hour to sunrise, but dawn was 
 already spreading up in the east. The clouds banked 
 alonfT the horizon in the middle distance were dark 
 and grey, but fringed with silver, while those far, far 
 behind them were aglow with gold and crimson. 
 
 "I say, Ernest," said Laurie, "I'm going on shore. 
 It is too cold for a long swim." 
 
 "Well, I guess I'll come with you. You are all 
 over as red as a boiled lobster." 
 
 "Am I? And do you know what you're like?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 " Why, like a raw one, and that is worse." 
 
 " Wo-ah-rr-rr-wo-o-0-0 ! " 
 
 That line is really meant for music. I could not 
 
266 AT HOME IN KLONDYKE 
 
 write it in any other way. But I wish it to convey 
 the sound of that grizzly bear's awful voice, as he 
 stood on the banks of the stream, impatiently waiting 
 for his breakfast to land. 
 
 He had made up his mind to breakfast off Ernest 
 and Laurie, the boiled lobster and the raw one, and 
 it was perfectly immaterial to him which he began on 
 first. 
 
 " Oh, Laurie, look, look I " 
 
 "Oh, Ernie! Back, back! Let us swim down- 
 stream." 
 
 Truth to tell, they were both almost paralysed with 
 fear, for as they swam the ferocious monster — the 
 first seen this season — walked alongside the bank. 
 
 Perhaps he was not famishing with hunger, or he 
 thought the water too cold to hazard a spring. 
 Thouofh he crouched more than once as if about 
 to leap, he refrained. 
 
 How the adventure would have ended had not 
 help been most unexpectedly at hand, I cannot say. 
 Sir Duncan Currie generally went Avith the boys for 
 a swim. On this particular morning, however, he 
 had overslept his little self, and was late. When 
 he dashed up to the stream at last, he took in the 
 situation at a glance, and went straight for the heels 
 of the grizzly, biting as hard as he knew how to. 
 
 With an angry roar, the brute wheeled and tried 
 to strike the wiry, wee terrier with a paw. But the 
 doggy kept out of his reach, only whenever Bruin 
 faced towards the river, he renewed the attack. 
 
HE WENT STRAIGHT FOR THE HEELS OF THE GRIZZLY. 
 
AT HOME IN KLONDYKE 26/ 
 
 This continued for many minutes, till the grizzly 
 could stand it no longer, and, grumbling and growl- 
 inof, made off towards the hills. 
 
 An Aberdeen terrier chasing a bear ! 
 
 It may be strange, but it happens to be fact ! 
 
 The boys did not stop to dress. They gathered 
 up their clothes and fled back towards the village ; 
 and as they rushed madly past some miners going 
 early to work at their claims, the astonishment of 
 the men may easily be imagined. 
 
 The sun soon rose, and shone very brightly down 
 on hill and dell and Avoodland wild. 
 
 Little Currie had come back safe and sound, but 
 all excitement. He seemed to tell the boys that he 
 knew where Bruin had gone to cover. 
 
 When Wilson heard of the adventure, his very 
 eyes sparkled with joy. 
 
 " Come on, lads ! Get your guns ! Come, Currie ! 
 A bear's ham is an excellent change of diet." 
 
 "Wowff!" barked Currie. 
 
 And so the hunt started. 
 
 Two hours after this, the bear was bagged. 
 
CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 THE DAY WILL SOON BE ON THE TURN 
 
 " Stormy winter's come at last, 
 
 With winds and clouds and changing skies ; 
 I hear the rushing of the blast 
 
 That through the snowy valley flies." — Bryant. 
 
 "Now, boys," said Wilson, an evening or two 
 after this, as he laid down his violin, "I believe I 
 am still boss of the show." 
 
 "Oh, yes." 
 
 " Well, I'm going to exercise my authority. We 
 have been here, now, a whole month, and our claims 
 have all panned out sj^lendidly, and I have taken 
 over the poor doctor's, for he can never dig again, I 
 fear. But, anyhow, you youngsters are working fai- 
 too hard, and — look here — harder than j-ou need to." 
 
 " Oh, Wilson," cried Ernest, " we want to make 
 a pile, you know ; and, really, the excitement is very 
 great ! " 
 
 "True, old man, and excitement kills, as sure as 
 you are alive at present. If you go tearing on as you 
 are now doing, for six weeks longer, you'll be down 
 with fever, and won't have strength enough to fight 
 it." 
 
 "Well, what would you have us do?" 
 268 
 
THE DAY WILL SOON BE ON THE TURN 269 
 
 "Why, give yourselves two good hours' rest a 
 day." 
 
 " What, sit down and whittle sticks and whistle ? " 
 
 "No, lad, not that; but shoulder j'our guns and 
 your fishing-gear and be off to the hills and the 
 glens. We want fish ; we want more bear meat. 
 Old hands tell us it is going to be a hard winter ; 
 and so, while keeping up your health and strength, 
 getting good fun and excellent sport, you will have 
 the satisfaction of knowing that you are filling the 
 larder," 
 
 " What say you, Laurie ? " said Ernest. 
 
 " I'll go like a shot." 
 
 " So will I." 
 
 And so a series of almost daily hunting and fishing 
 expeditions were inaugurated and kept up, too, until 
 the eai-ly winter had fairly set in. Then they had 
 to be abandoned. 
 
 But not before our young heroes had encountered 
 one or two thrilling adventures that they were not 
 likely to forget. 
 
 On these expeditions that poor little dear, wee, 
 rough-coated t3'ke Currie was their constant com- 
 panion. 
 
 " I feel it my duty," he seemed to sa}^ " to look 
 after you with so much danger about. Where would 
 you be now, I wonder, if I had not destroyed that 
 terrible bear ? " 
 
 Yes, Currie was really convinced that he alone had 
 slain the grizzly. 
 
2/0 THE DAY AVILL SOON BE ON THE TURN 
 
 But, for reasons best known to himself, the bob- 
 tailed Towsie preferred remaining in camp. Perhaps 
 he thought that there were bad characters about, and 
 that it was his duty to protect his mistress. 
 
 Well, while the young fellows were fishing, Currie 
 used to be romping through the bush, doing a bit 
 of mink or wolverene hunting on his own account, 
 and refreshing himself now and then with a feed of 
 raspberries. 
 
 One day while the terrier was away on the war- 
 path — he could be heard yap-yapping in the dis- 
 tance every now and then — and the boys were 
 fishing, with such success that they were actually 
 covering the banks with living, leaping mountain 
 trout, all at once, to their no small consternation, 
 a huge black bear put in an appearance on the scene. 
 
 My own experience of bears has been chiefly among 
 the large Arctic species, and I have had one or two 
 narrow " squeaks " ; but I have noticed that when 
 a bear is very self-possessed he feels sure of his prey, 
 whether it be a man or a seal. ^ 
 
 Well, this particular bear did not seem put out in 
 the slightest degree. 
 
 There was a cunning leer on his crafty face, and 
 I'm sure he would have spoken somewhat as follows 
 could he have spoken at all : — 
 
 1 In the Arctic regions once we had a little ragamuffin of a dog 
 who used to chase the white bears. He could do them no harm, but 
 by biting at their heels he delayed their progress, and this enabled 
 the rifles to get near enough. We called him "Brick, the bear 
 hound." — G. S. 
 
THE DAY WILL SOON BE ON THE TURN 2/1 
 
 "Hillo, lads! Hill-1-lo ! WI13', this is quite a 
 pleasant surprise I Fishing, eh ? Well, I've just 
 been doing a little of that myself, farther up-stream. 
 I've swallowed about two dozen, but la ! what is that 
 to a healthy young fellow like me. But don't let me 
 disturb you ! " 
 
 He had lain down to watch them, as a cat watches 
 a mouse. 
 
 '• I thought, you know," he went on, "that a bit o' 
 fresh meat would help to make up a dinner for me ; 
 so, as soon as I got scent of you, I just came along." 
 
 Both boj-s were almost paralysed with fear, for a 
 time. They had left their rifles, foolishly enough, 
 far down-stream. 
 
 But they determined to sell their lives dearly, and 
 defend themselves with their fishing-rods. 
 
 It was pretty evident that Mr. Bruin could not 
 make up his mind, as to which he should spring 
 upon first. 
 
 The delay enabled both to recover self-possession. 
 Laurie suddenly remembered that he had in his 
 pocket a very large and shrill dog-whistle, and a 
 happy thought occurred to him. 
 
 " Ernest," he said, '• slip off your coat quietly, and 
 when I give a startling whistle, whoop as loudly as 
 you can, wave the jacket, and rush towards the brute." 
 
 "Well," thought Ernest, "it is death an^-how, I 
 daresay." So off came the coat. 
 
 "Aren't ye afraid of catching cold?" Bruin 
 seemed to say. 
 
2/2 THE DAY WILL SOON BE ON THE TURN 
 
 "Are you ready, Ernest?" 
 
 " Ready, aye, ready." 
 
 Whew-w-w ! went the whistle. 
 
 In Bruin's ears it was startling in the extreme ; 
 but when the jacket was waved, and both boys 
 advanced with a wild whoop, his nerves couldn't 
 stand it a moment longer. 
 
 He wheeled and bolted. 
 
 Then a new actor came rushing on the stage. 
 
 And this was Currie himself. 
 
 " Let us run for the rifles," cried Laurie. 
 
 And run they did. 
 
 They could still hear Currie barking and yelping 
 at Bruin's heels, so they hurried on in chase. To 
 their horror, just as they were within gunshot, the 
 bear wheeled so suddenly that he downed poor Cur- 
 rie, and lay on top of him. 
 
 Never had Laurie fired a shot with more caution. 
 
 Yet, strange to say, he was cool the while. 
 
 The bullet struck the monster on the left shoul- 
 der. He started to his feet Avith a coughing roar, 
 spitting blood and froth, then — he fell on his side, 
 dead. 
 
 But the strangest thing of all was this : Sir Duncan 
 Currie did not appear a single bit the worse. 
 
 He looked a little dazed, but soon recovered even 
 from that. 
 
 "I killed that bear in fine style, didn't I?" he 
 seemed to say as he trotted up to Laurie, laughing 
 apparently all the way down both sides. 
 
THE DAY WnX SOON BE OX THE TURN 2/3 
 
 Laurie took him up in his arms and kissed his 
 heatheiy brow, a dozen times over. 
 
 " My dear wee friend," he cried, " what should we 
 do without you ? " 
 
 "What, indeed?" thought Currie, though he did 
 not say so. 
 
 Anj-how that black bear when it w-as got home 
 made a very welcome addition to the larder. As 
 did the fish also. 
 
 But it is not to be supposed that a little party of 
 five or six could make away with a large animal like 
 a bear, even in winter time when appetites were 
 wholesome and meat kept long. No, but there were 
 many men not very far off who had been unfortu- 
 nate, and were already beginning to feel the pinch 
 of hunger, and to these a portion of that meat was, 
 indeed, a much-prized present. 
 
 Now I am anxious to give the gold fields of K Ion- 
 dyke all their due, as well as the brave fellows Avho 
 worked there, and for aught I know do still work 
 there ; yet it would be far less than my duty as a 
 writer of books that are meant not only to amuse, 
 but to convey a little information, were I to leave 
 the reader with the impression that every one who 
 goes to Klondyke is bound to gather wealth. 
 
 Klondyke has been the ruin of man}- of those who 
 were even able and willing to work and struggle. 
 
 For several sorts of reasons they have simply been 
 unsuccessful. They have drawn blanks as regarded 
 their claims; they have lacked patience and long 
 
2/4 THE DAY WILL SOOX BE ON THE TURN 
 
 endurance ; they have not come provided with the 
 proper necessaries of life, and so have starved first, 
 and broken down afterwards. 
 
 There are many of such men in Dawson City, — 
 some of them gentlemen's sons, who have gradually 
 degenerated into hangers around bars or the dancing- 
 saloons, and loafers. 
 
 Ah, me I it is bad enough to be poor in any city, 
 but to be in a town like Dawson, and not to know 
 where to turn for a dollar, or not to know when 
 eating one meal, where the next is to come from, is 
 pitiable indeed. 
 
 Still, many who went to the mines had no sand in 
 them, as the Yankees expressively say ; they were 
 from the first inclined to loaf and be idle, and per- 
 haps addicted to drink. How could such as these 
 expect to get on ? 
 
 Crime is hardly known high up in El Dorado, but 
 once Laurie's little Currie guided his master to a 
 gloomy spruce copse, some distance down a wood. 
 For a time, although armed with his rifle and Ernest 
 not far away, he hesitated to enter that dark thicket. 
 
 It was evidently no live beast, however ; for the 
 wise little dog, instead of showing excitement, sat 
 down on his haunches, lifted his chin high in air, 
 pursed his lips, and howled most piteously. 
 
 Then Laurie knocked aside the branches and 
 crept in. 
 
 There lay a man on his back — dead. 
 
 His sightless eyes were turned upwards; there 
 
THE DAY WILL SOON BE ON THE TURN 275 
 
 was a large brown patcli on the ground, made bj the 
 blood that had poured from a wound beneath the 
 ear, and his right hand still grasped the revolver 
 with which the deed had been done. 
 
 An unsuccessful miner ! Ah I no one could tell 
 his sad story. None here knew what his home life 
 had been. But on his left hand was a diamond ring, 
 and beside it a ring of plaited hair — bonnie yellow 
 hair supporting two little golden hearts. 
 
 Easy would it be for me to weave a story around 
 a tragedy like this. I refrain, and restrain even my 
 imagination. The subject is a sacred one. 
 
 But another day, not far from B , a body was 
 
 found in the river. 
 
 Suicide was the verdict ; but the simple court that 
 held the inquest refrained from adding those idiotic 
 words "temporary insanity." 
 
 Well, our hero Wilson, and the boys too, were 
 as kind as they could be to unfortunate idlers, and 
 gave some of them work at the diggings when they 
 could be approached. What I mean is this, that 
 many had been gentlemen at home in England, and 
 were far too proud to take manual work from anybody. 
 
 But others there were who begged for it, their 
 only wish being to raise as much cash as would take 
 them back to America, or to their homes in Merry 
 England. 
 
 One man who told Wilson he belonged to a good 
 old county family in Kent, and who really looked a 
 young fellow of education, worked for weeks and 
 
276 THE DAY WILL SOON BE ON THE TURN 
 
 seemed veiy grateful. In the end, he showed his 
 gratitude in a way that was not very commendable. 
 He stole about five hundred dollars in nuggets and 
 gold dust and, decamping, reached Dawson City and 
 was seen no more. 
 
 Wilson did not worry over this, but it taught him 
 not to trust every one who was pleasant in speech. 
 
 But shorter and shorter grew the days, and it was 
 evident that the winter was going to be not only 
 earlier than usual, but harder. The bears now dis- 
 appeared. 
 
 " What a blessing it is," said Wilson, one evening, 
 " that we came prepared." And he added : " I really 
 did not know which of you young ladies to admire 
 most when you came to visit us at our claims. No- 
 body must ever tell me that fur hoods and parkas are 
 not becoming; and I think that wolverene is just 
 about the ^^^'^ttiest fur out." 
 
 "It does seem cruel, tliough," said Leebie, "to kill 
 the poor little minks, or even the wolverenes." 
 
 "• I think," replied Wilson, laughing, " it would be 
 as well, Leebie, to lecture Sir Duncan Currie on the 
 subject ; for it is he who catches most fur." 
 
 Sir Duncan laid one ear forward when he heard 
 his name mentioned. But he did not make any 
 remark. I really believe that Sir Duncan kept very 
 many of his very best thoughts to himself. 
 
 The claims continued to pan out well, but I fear 
 I should be accused of exaggeration, if I told all the 
 truth concerning the wonderful land of gold. 
 
THE DAY WILL SOON BE ON THE TURN 277 
 
 I have surel}' said enough to prove that it is energy 
 and industry alone that bring fortune. 
 
 As the weather grew colder and the days got 
 shorter, it saddened the hearts of not only the " girls," 
 but our boys as well, to observe that many of the 
 miners who had been only partially successful were 
 now all but destitute of the necessaries of life. 
 These poor fellows worked on hopefully, however, 
 at their claims, believing that luck would eventually 
 take a turn. For some it did ; for others it came 
 not, and these at last stampeded to Dawson City. 
 
 But provisions of all kinds had there even already, 
 reached almost famine prices, and many a one now 
 repented bitterly ever having come to Kloudyke 
 at all, 
 
 Ernest and Laurie had, as we have seen, taken 
 Wilson Webb's advice, and did far less work now, 
 spending more time in taking wholesome exercise. 
 They were young, very young, and they were strong 
 too. 
 
 Well, the gold would keep. This was Wilson's 
 reasoning: why kill themselves in winter by grub- 
 bin cr for that which could be got with far less toil 
 and trouble in the lengthening days of summer? 
 
 They settled down to winter work, therefore, in 
 the following fashion: — 
 
 There was but little daylight during December, 
 only from an hour and a half to two hours, accord- 
 ing to the state of the sky and atmosphere. Well, 
 to make the most of this, they worked with lanterns 
 
278 THE DAY WILL SOON BE ON THE TURN 
 
 underground in the mornings and in the evenings, 
 so that they could have all the middle part of the 
 day for sport and amusement. 
 
 But in the earlier part of December they cut 
 down wood on the braes, and conve3^ed it home in 
 logs for firing. This was pretty hard work, yet they 
 had the satisfaction of knowing that they Avere pre- 
 paring to bid defiance to the worst kind of weather 
 that could blow. 
 
 Their extra stores they had long since " cached," 
 or placed in safes erected on poles. It was thus 
 protected from the attacks of either bears or wolves, 
 though the former sleep most of the winter. 
 
 Poor little wire-haired Currie still persisted in 
 sleeping in a tub out of doors ; but he graciously 
 permitted Wilson to nearly fill tliat tub with wood- 
 shavings and skins, and under these he quite buried 
 himself, only giving voice when some beast of an 
 inquiring turn of mind — a fox or a wolf on the war- 
 path — came prowling round. 
 
 These wild beasts chose the darkest nights on 
 which to visit the camp ; and as it was no good at- 
 tempting to get a shot at them then, a rifle was 
 placed in the wall so that when Currie gave tongue 
 it could be fired by Wilson, by simply pulling a 
 string from the couch where he lay. 
 
 One shot was enough ; the enemy fled, and re- 
 turned no more. 
 
 But there were beautiful moonlight nights when 
 it was light enough to obtain a shot, and either one 
 
THE DAY WILL SOON BE ON THE TURN 279 
 
 of the bo3'S, or Wilson liiiiiself, would creep quietly 
 out when Currie barked, and have a look around. 
 Bruin had generally been the would-be burglar. At 
 the commencement of winter, and in one month, no 
 less than three bears were discovered up at the 
 cache, endeavouring to claw it open ; and each time 
 one was shot. 
 
 "Come, men," Wilson said to about a dozen of 
 men one night, at a meeting they were holding to 
 discuss the question of shutting up their claims, and 
 retreating down upon Dawson City. " We are all 
 brothers here. I and my people have provisions for 
 two whole years, and we are not going to see you 
 starve. Besides, God is sending us a bit of fresh 
 meat now and then, and even wolves are not bad 
 tack when a fellow is hard pushed. Don't give up 
 your claims ; that would be ruinous ! Better times 
 will come — must come; and, my friends, don't for- 
 get this : the day w^ill soon be on the turn." 
 
 The men — hollow-checked, glistening-eyed, and 
 starving — stood up with one accord to thank and 
 bless him. 
 
 Many could not utter a word, owing to the tears 
 that were choking them, but all crowded round him, 
 and the honest grip of each hard hand was proof 
 enough of the gratitude that dwelt in their hearts. 
 
CHAPTER XXVII 
 
 CHRISTMAS IN KLONDYKE — A TERRIBLE JOURNEY 
 
 " But pleasures are like poppies spread, 
 You seize the flower, its bloom is shed; 
 Or like the snow-fall in the river, 
 A moment white — then melts forever; 
 Or like the borealis race 
 That flit ere you can point their place; 
 Or like the rainbow's lovely form. 
 Evanishing amid the storm." — BuRXS. 
 
 Perhaps the glorious aurora borealis never shone 
 and scintillated more beautifully above the wild hills 
 and snow-laden woods of Klondyke, than it did on 
 that still, starry night of December 25th, 189-. 
 
 As white as the sunlight at one moment, in quiver- 
 ing, snake-like ribbons and fringes, so close, appar- 
 ently, that you might cast a salmon fly over it, as one 
 does over the Dee, and the next moment flickering 
 here and there in a flush of pale crimson, sea-green, or 
 blue. 
 
 Not a sound was to be heard over all this strange 
 land, save now and then the wail of a wolf, or sharp, 
 ringing bark of a fox in the distance. Except for 
 this, it was a silence that seemed ^preternatural, a 
 silence that could be felt, and gazing skywards, al- 
 though one might be mistaken, it was impossible not 
 
 280 
 
CHRISTMAS IN KLONDYKE 28 1 
 
 to believe thcat the aurora did emit sound, partly- 
 hissing, partly crackling. 
 
 Well, anyhow, the light of the stars shone with 
 but feeble rays through this light of the north. 
 There was a new moon, too, but that was slowly 
 sinking in the west. 
 
 No need of lanterns to-night, at all events, to guide 
 those half-dozen brave and sturdy miners, who were 
 making their way through the powder}' snow towards 
 the mansion. 
 
 It was Christmas night, and neither Wilson, his 
 wife, nor Leebie were going to forget it. Tlie girls 
 had been busy for days making mysterious-looking 
 cakes and a huge plum-pudding, with many other 
 dainties, which a woman only could name. 
 
 The boys had been busy too ; not only was there a 
 tent added to the mansion, whereby its available 
 space was extended, but the inside of both this and 
 the largest room was decorated with evergreens, of 
 which the woods around afforded a supply that would 
 suffice to cover the walls of St. Paul's Cathedral itself, 
 outside and in, and change its dome into a canopy of 
 green. 
 
 But those evergreens behaved "funnily," as Laurie 
 expressed it. For at the end of the room farthest 
 from the fireplace, they were hung with tiny icicles, 
 from the melting of portions of snow, which it had 
 been impossible to shake off. I)Ut tliese icicles had 
 a decorative tendenc}*, and sparkled with all the 
 colours of the rainbow. 
 
282 CHRISTMAS IN KLONDYKE 
 
 A dozen, in all, sat down to dinner. Well, tluit 
 was better tlian thirteen, anyhow. Tlie ladies sat 
 nearest to the fire; not because they were colder 
 than anybody else, but because they had to serve 
 up the diJihes. 
 
 I may mention, at once, that soup was not down 
 on the menu. But fish was. And delightful they 
 were. These splendid trout the boys had caught — 
 Indian-fashion — through an ice-hole in the stream. 
 Well, there was a splendid haunch of deer, brown, 
 juicy, tender, and done to a turn. This was flanked 
 by potatoes and hunks of brown bread, baked by 
 Leebie herself. There was Avild duck, besides, for 
 those who liked them. Beauties they were, though 
 not very large ; and, mind you, those miners had 
 brought healthy appetites to that Christmas dinner. 
 
 " Gentlemen," said Wilson, with a smile, " I shall 
 carve these ducks as the young Scottish naval sur- 
 geon did some fowls that were placed before him. 
 
 " ' Let every man tak' a birrrd,' he said, and so 
 you must do the same." 
 
 Well, for vegetables, there were green peas and 
 tomatoes ; tinned, of course, for neither of these 
 dainties flourish so far north, as yet. But I think 
 that the cranberry jelly went well with either veni- 
 son or duck. This jelly — honour to whom honour 
 is due — was also made by Leebie. 
 
 The wine was coffee, with preserved milk. 
 
 From my own experience of regions round the 
 pole, I can testify that good coffee is a far more 
 
CHRISTaiAS IN IvLONDYKE 283 
 
 wholesome and generous stimulant than rum; and 
 I've tried both. 
 
 "Perhaps," said Maddie, with a mischievous 
 smile, "some of the gentlemen would prefer iced 
 water." 
 
 But the very thoughts of this seemed to cause 
 more than one of her guests to shudder. 
 
 Well, the crowning glory of this Christmas din- 
 ner was the plum-pudding. 
 
 Ernest himself hoisted this to the board, and, 
 indeed, it needed all his strength to carry it. It 
 was rich and brown and savoury, and though no 
 holly graced its crown, a species of crimson barberry 
 did duty excellently well instead. 
 
 I feel quite certain that the Prince of Wales him- 
 self — who, I am told, is rather partial to ]3udding — 
 never enjoyed a more splendid or better-made pud- 
 ding than this. 
 
 After this, more coffee was served, and then 
 Scotch thistles were handed round. Each Scotch 
 thistle, however, was of purest crystal, and con- 
 tained a modicum of the purest Scottish whisky. 
 
 So ended the dimier. 
 
 But not the evening. 
 
 For now a wide circle was formed around the low 
 hearth, on which more logs were heaped, and blazed 
 and danced and sparkled right merrily. 
 
 I need hardly add tliat Towsie and bold Sir Dun- 
 can Currie were there, or that they had enjoyed 
 tlieir dinner as mucli as any one else. 
 
284 CHRISTMAS IN KLONDYKE 
 
 " Upon the whole," remarked the terrier to his 
 friend Towsie, " Klondyke isn't such a bad place 
 after all, and even at home it ain't every day we get 
 such a glorious dinner to discuss. What do you say, 
 friend Towsie ? " 
 
 Towsie sighed. 
 
 "J say that I'd rather eat a dry biscuit in our cave 
 on the moor, in our own bonnie land, than pudding 
 and venison here. Ah, Currie! we don't quite under- 
 stand mankind yet, as wise as we are ; but, after all, 
 I think that digging for gold, Currie, must be a 
 species of madness." 
 
 " I'd rather dig for mink myself," said Currie, and 
 then he curled up and went to sleep. 
 
 There was nothing talked about to-night except home. 
 
 And several of those miners had stories to tell of 
 their former lives, that were interesting to a degree, 
 but sad enough to boot. Nearly every one there had a 
 mother or sister or sweetheart in the " far countrie," 
 and their thoughts went out to her to-night. 
 
 And even the songs that were sung and the melo- 
 dies played by Wilson Webb on his violin, had an air 
 of sadness about them. 
 
 Never mind ! That Christmas evening was a very 
 happy one for all that, and not a heart was there, 
 around that cheerful fire to-night, which did not beat 
 high with hopes of brighter days to come. 
 * * * * * 
 
 I am so terribly sensitive that even while I write 
 my readers seem to be around me, and I often feel I 
 
CHRISTMAS IN KLONDYKE 285 
 
 have many things to apologise for. I feel just so at 
 this moment, because of my inability to make the 
 last part of this chapter as gladsome and cheery as 
 the first. 
 
 But one's duty plainly is to describe things as they 
 are, and at the risk of dashing the hopes of many 
 who may have half made up their minds to visit this 
 land of gold, I must say that the winter there may 
 be not only a hard but a deadly time. 
 
 In what follows, then, you will find no straining 
 after stagy effects. I sball be happy if simplicity 
 marks my every sentence, though, being an Arctic 
 man myself, it would be easy for me to make my 
 descriptions very graphic indeed, without departing 
 in the slightest degree from facts. 
 
 Still, I should premise few winters, even in the 
 regions around the Klondyke and Dawson City, are 
 so terrible as that of 189- was. 
 
 As early as October, high winds and biting blasts 
 began to blow fiercely from off the Norland hills, 
 and wlien it veered more round to the west, snow 
 commenced to fall, in little pellets at first, no larger 
 than grains of mustard-seed. But as the wind went 
 down this was changed to big dry flakes, of a size 
 such as we never see in England. I have myself 
 seen such flakes — away up in Greenland north — as 
 large as florins and crown-pieces. 
 
 As the frost was hard, and even the river frozen 
 over, these flakes, lying loosely enough, soon accumu- 
 lated to what is called a great fall. 
 
286 CHRISTMAS IN KLONDYKE 
 
 For clays and days after this a kind of blizzard 
 blew. The sensation, when one attempted to go 
 out of doors, was precisely like that experienced by 
 a man who is out of form, when he stands under 
 a cold shower-bath. One gasped and struggled. 
 The ice-dust was choking, suffocating, and paralysing 
 to the air-cells. The cold, too, was intense, and one 
 had to grope one's way from door to door. 
 
 The saloons in Dawson City were brightly lit up 
 all day long, and I do not wonder that hundreds of 
 poor wretches sought for shelter, refreshment, and 
 warmth within their walls. 
 
 The wind fell at last, and then the scene all 
 around, migtit have been called dreary in the ex- 
 treme. Nothing black, or even dark, was visible. 
 The whole world was robed in its winding-sheet. 
 Tents and even log-houses had collapsed, and many 
 of the latter had been entirely covered over, so that 
 the inmates had to be dug out. 
 
 In some parts the wreaths of snow — shaped like 
 curling waves just before they break on a sandy 
 beach — were so high one could scarce have touched 
 their sharply defined upper edges with a fishing-rod. 
 
 But starvation reigned in Dawson City. The 
 prices of food of all kinds were prohibitory exce^jt 
 to those who had an abundance of " dust." 
 
 Hunger alone is capable of making cowards of even 
 brave men, but few, indeed, can \Aithstand the wither- 
 ing, nerve-destroying effects of starvation and cold 
 combined. 
 
CHRISTMAS IN KLONDYKE 287 
 
 " Boys," said a Yankee, one evening, at the bar of 
 INIac's saloon, " I've had enough of this. What say 
 you to skip? It is little more than seven hundi-ed 
 miles to Juneau. It "is true the journey "will be a 
 terrible one, for burdens must be borne ; but, rather 
 than leave my bones here for the wolves to pick, 
 I'm going to try it." 
 
 The proposal found favour with scores, and so a 
 stampede was resolved upon; and in two days' time 
 five hundred men at least had crossed the frozen 
 river, and were heading away for the far, far distant 
 Cliilcoot Pass. 
 
 They had hired Indians as guides and carriers. 
 There was no thought of gold now. All they longed 
 for was food and warmth and a chance of life. 
 
 They departed singing. 
 
 Yes, British courage or American is indomitable ! 
 
 But mercy on us ! what a fearful journey they 
 had undertaken ! Had they been all as strong as 
 mountaineers, they could not have hoped to reach 
 the end of it without sufferings and privations, the 
 character of which it would be difficult, indeed, to 
 exaggerate. 
 
 Shall we follow them in imagination ? Better not, 
 I tliink. But a man lives near me now who had 
 made one in that thin dark line which, as he spoke 
 in short sentences, every ^ Avord stamped with the 
 impress of truth, I could in fancy see winding its 
 slow, sad way across snow-clad plains and frozen 
 streams, round rocky boulders houses-high, through 
 
288 CHRISTMAS IN KLONDYKE 
 
 lonesome frozen forests and over mountains bleak and 
 bare and wild ; poor fellows with frosted feet and 
 lagging limbs, their faces pale, their lips a dusky 
 blue, hardly looking where they went, hardly caring, 
 indeed, seeing nothing but the snow or ice beneath 
 their feet, happy only — if happiness it could be 
 called — when night fell and they could creep into 
 their sleeping-bags, cold and hungry as they were ! 
 
 To sleep ? Not all, for refreshing as sleep would 
 have been in many cases, aching limbs and racking 
 coughs banished slumber till far into the short hours, 
 when it was well-nigh time to roll out and continue 
 the dreary journey. 
 
 " But ah ! " says my informant, " seldom of a morn- 
 ing did all roll out, and when we placed hands 
 on the shoulders of those we thought were sleeping 
 sound, we found the sleep was sound indeed. They 
 were dead and stiff. 
 
 " We buried them, bags and all. Just covered them 
 up with snow, for the ground was far too hard to 
 open, even had we brought with us picks and shovels. 
 The bears and the foxes would find them in spring, 
 but this we could not help. 
 
 " So slow was our march that November itself was 
 half through before we reached Marsh Lake, and 
 the pass still lay in front of us. 
 
 " Those among us who were strongest sympathised 
 with the weakly, as far as men in such circumstances 
 as these can have sympathy or feeling. We helped 
 the ailing along, anyhow, and we gave them a portion 
 
CHRISTMAS IN KLONDYKE 289 
 
 of our own food allowance ; we even carried them 
 when too bad to walk. 
 
 " I mind well that one afternoon Nat Hunter and 
 I were carrying a poor fellow between us. The day 
 was a bitter one, with a high wind and driving snow. 
 
 " ' William,' said Nat to me, as well as his half- 
 frozen lips could speak, 'we needn't bother with 
 this one any more.' 
 
 " ' Oh, Nat,' I answered, ' we cannot desert the 
 poor fellow now ! ' 
 
 " ' Speaks well for your kind heart, William, but — 
 he is deady 
 
 " So we covered him up as we had helped to cover 
 so many, and then — well, then we lit our pipes. 
 
 " We left more than a dozen dead, on or near the 
 pass, and when we dragged ourselves into Dyea at 
 last, there were barely three hundred and fifty of us 
 all told. 
 
 "For yeai-s and years to come our trail will be 
 traced by bleaching bones." 
 
CHAPTER XXVIII 
 
 SICKNESS AND SORROW — THE MANIAC DOCTOR 
 
 " O woman ! in our hours of ease 
 Uncertain, coy, and hard to please, 
 And variable as the shade 
 By the light quivering aspen made ; 
 When pain and anguish wring the brow, 
 A ministering angel thou ! " — Scott. 
 
 A MINER arrived pretty early one morning at the 
 mansion. 
 
 Wilson Webb and the boys had just breakfasted, 
 and were getting ready their lanterns to go under- 
 ground. 
 
 It was about the latter end of January, and the 
 wind was blowing fierce and keen. 
 
 He was a hardy Cumberland man, and had already 
 made his pile. 
 
 " Oh, good-morning, Spencer ! " said Wilson. 
 
 " Good-morning, Mr. Webb. But I haven't the 
 best of news to give you." 
 
 " Why, what is the matter ? " 
 
 " Only this, — and it's bad enough, — my pal 
 dropped down-stream last night." 
 
 "What — dead?" 
 
 " Ay, dead enough, sir. Don't say a word to the 
 290 
 
SICKNESS AND SORROW ' 29 1 
 
 ladies. We'll get him under by lantern light, and 
 they need never know. 
 
 " It was his heart," continued the miner, " acceler- 
 ated, as a doctor would say, by starvation." 
 
 " But, my dear fellow, you must admit that we — 
 my young pals and I — have been willing to share 
 our very last crust with you." 
 
 " Ay, that you have ! May God bless you for it ! 
 But I must be plain with you. These miners j^ou 
 have been so good to are British and American; and, 
 being so, they are proud, and it is the very fact that 
 you refuse to take their dust for the meat and flour, 
 which causes them in their pride to keep away, and, 
 in fact, to starve." 
 
 " Is that so, Spencer, really ? " 
 
 " That is so really, sir." 
 
 " Well, theii, in future, and till better days come 
 round, I shall sell^ 
 
 " Spoken like a hero, sir. Rather than hurt the 
 pride of those brave fellows, you bury your own. 
 Now I'll go and tell them." 
 
 It was evident he had done ao ; for when daylight 
 came, more than a dozen gaunt and hungry men 
 found their Avay to the mansion, received tinned and 
 other food, paid for it like men, and went away 
 contented. 
 
 But Wilson had told each and all of them that, 
 though he had consented to take " dust " for the 
 stores from the cache, all deer or wolf meat and all 
 fish caught must be accepted as gifts. 
 
292 SICKNESS AND SORROW 
 
 And the men agreed to this, without a single 
 dissentient voice. 
 
 No more hands died of actual starvation, but long 
 before that weary winter ended, five more graves had 
 to be opened, to receive the bodies of men who had 
 succumbed to the awful cold and to chest complaints. 
 
 Most of these had been nursed to the very last, by 
 either Maddie or Leebie. 
 
 So kind hands had smoothed their dying pillows. 
 
 But what made several of these death-beds all the 
 more affecting was, that towards the end the poor 
 fellows imagined that they were being nursed by 
 a sister or mother. 
 
 " Hold my hand, Jeannie," said one f)Oor young 
 Scottish lad. 
 
 Leebie took the hand in hers ; and a thin, thin, 
 cold one it was. 
 
 "Mother isn't here. But tell her, Jeannie, — tell 
 her that — I died happy — so happy; and that I'm 
 going to land where gold is never needed, — a land, 
 Jeannie, where there is neither cauld nor care." 
 
 There was a smile on his pale lips ; but the eyes 
 rolled upwards, the eyelids drooped, and Leebie 
 knew the end had come. 
 
 Spring returned. The days grew longer, brighter, 
 clearer. And though floating ice came down the 
 stream, no more snow fell. 
 
 Bears that had slept most of the weary winter 
 through, in caves far away among the hills, awoke, 
 ravenous and hungry ; and came lower down to seek 
 
SICKNESS AND SORROW 293 
 
 for meat or fish. Tlie}^ weve sometimes seen gnaw- 
 ing the bark of trees, or eating the greener twigs. 
 
 Bnt foxes and wolves went farther off. 
 
 One day Ernest, with Currie, had gone to the 
 woods in search of a bhick Mr. Bruin which, after 
 very cautious stalking, he managed to kill. But in 
 returning, lie found in a sheltered corner some sweet, 
 wee wild flowers nodding to the gentle westling 
 wind, and pulled a bouquet for Leebie. 
 
 And, as he gave her the flowers and received 
 thanks, he told her that he had seen a bird, and 
 heard it sing. 
 
 " Oh, then," cried Leebie, " spring is indeed come, 
 at long, long last." 
 
 " I would not go so far as that," said Ernest; " but, 
 Leebie, spring is coming ! " 
 
 Perhaps Ernest lingered a little longer than usual 
 that morning beside Leebie. So true is it what Ten- 
 nyson has told us, that 
 
 " In the spring a livelier iris changes on the burnished dove ; 
 In tlie spring a young man's fancy lightly turns to thoughts 
 of love." 
 
 Well, one day, about a month after tliis, a party of 
 strange Indians arrived at the camp, dressed in fur 
 from top to toe. The Indians were strange, but 
 stranger far the story they had to tell. 
 
 Tliere were seven of them in all, and from the 
 bows and arrows and other arms they carried, it was 
 evident they were on a hunting expedition. 
 
294 SICKNESS AND SORROW 
 
 The chief, or "boss," could talk a little English, 
 having been guide many times, he told Wilson, to 
 white men who came with fire-sticks from the " much 
 big water." 
 
 They were a tribe of wandering Indians, but their 
 real home lay at a village near by a lake, to the south- 
 ward of the Blue Mountains, and not far from the 
 banks of Big Salmon River. 
 
 Now, although Wilson Webb had not said a word 
 to the boys, or to any one, for many a long month 
 about poor Dr. Debrett, it was because he believed 
 him dead. 
 
 The uidiappy Doc. had just disappeared and come 
 again no more. " Long ere now," Wilson had told 
 himself, when thinking about his dear old friend but 
 a day or two before the arrival of these Indians, " he 
 must have fallen an easy prey to bears or wolves, or 
 been drowned in some raging torrent." 
 
 But what the Indian chief told him at once raised 
 hope in his heart. 
 
 A strange white man, with no fire-stick, had one 
 evening arrived "mooch sick and plenty mooch tire," 
 at the Indian village of Kwea-a-chi. 
 
 The Indians had taken pity on him, and given him 
 flesh to eat and wild honey, and shelter in the biggest 
 tent ; and so he grew well by degrees and lived 
 amongst them. 
 
 From the chief's description of the strange white 
 man, Wilson Webb felt certain and sure it was none 
 other save the unhappy doctor. 
 
SICKNESS AND SORROW 295 
 
 "Was there anything strange in his manner?" he 
 asked. 
 
 " Yes, yes ! " cried the chief. " He speak mooch to 
 self. And he talkee, talkee, sometime all night, to 
 good spirits. No, no, we not see. On'y white man 
 see spirits foh true." 
 
 "Boys," said Wilson, " this is my friend, the doc- 
 toi-, and I am going to find him, living or dead." 
 
 " Then we shall go too ! " 
 
 "No, lads, no. Here you must stay and work 
 your claims, and see to mine, with hired labour. I 
 shall take just one friend with me, and that is little 
 Currie. These Indians shall guide me." 
 
 Great, indeed, was Maddie's distress when she 
 heard Wilson's resolve. 
 
 She shed bitter tears, — for never yet had they been 
 parted, — and begged to be allowed to accompany him. 
 
 But this her husband would not hear of. 
 
 " The danger is nothing to me," he said ; " but small 
 though it may be, and few even the hardships I shall 
 have to encounter, compared to that we have gone 
 through together, I shall be ten times more happ}^ and 
 hopeful if you stay at home, darling. And I shall 
 always be buoyed up with the thought that you are 
 praying for me." 
 
 So ^laddie dried her eyes at last, and tried to be 
 brave. 
 
 Wilson started the very next day, simply with his 
 gun over his shoulder, and Currie trotting at his 
 heels. 
 
296 SICKNESS AND SORROW 
 
 Currie had kissed Towsie before he departed. 
 
 " I don't know where on earth we're bound for," 
 said the brave little terrier, " but of course he couldn't 
 go without me. I'll take good care of him, Towsie, 
 even if I have to kill an Indian or two, and the usual 
 amount of bears and wolves." 
 
 It would be foolish, indeed, to attempt to minimise 
 the dangers of this long journey towards the Blue 
 Mountains. Only a man in the best of health and 
 strength could have accomplished it. 
 
 Wilson had more adventures than would suffice 
 to fill a good-sized volume. The Indians carried all 
 his traps, provisions, and so forth, and of course acted 
 as his guides. But there were streams innumerable 
 to ford, some of them dangerous in the extreme, from 
 the fact that the shallows were usually but a little 
 way above rapids and cataracts, and slipping or fall- 
 ing would have meant certain death. 
 
 There were wild canons — beast-haunted — to trav- 
 erse, high hills to climb, where our hero had literally 
 to hang on by the toes, and dark gloomy forests to 
 penetrate and pierce. 
 
 But the Indians were faithful. Wilson gave them 
 plenty of tobacco, with the promise of much more, 
 and many blankets besides, if they should guide him 
 safely back to the camp of his friends. 
 
 Five long weary weeks were spent before they 
 reached the village where the white man lived. 
 
 It was the doctor. And yet how changed ! The 
 long beard he had grown was sprinkled with grc}'', 
 
SICKNESS AND SORROW 297 
 
 his hair as white as the snowy peaks of Toon-dah, 
 his cheek-bones high, and his dark eyes glittering 
 with a light which the Indian guide told Wilson the 
 spirits had put there. 
 
 " Debrett ! Charlie, old man, don't you know me ? 
 Don't you know your old friend Wilson Webb?" 
 
 The doctor's gaze was on the far-off forest yonder, 
 that went straggling up the mountain's side. He 
 seemed to see nothing else. 
 
 " Poor Wilson Webb ! " he said slowly. " Yes, he is 
 in the cowboy country, and Dr. Debrett — I did used 
 to know him, but he never writes now — never writes." 
 
 "Well, my friend," said Wilson, "you shall come 
 with me to-morrow, and I will bring you back to Dr. 
 Debrett." 
 
 The Doc. just turned his back and walked away 
 towards his own hut, the Indians everywhere stand- 
 ing aside to let him pass. 
 
 For men. in this state of mind were looked upon 
 with a reverence that amounted to awe by these poor 
 savages. They were supposed not only to commune 
 with spirits, but with the Great Spirit himself. 
 
 From the tall, hideously grotesque images that 
 stood here and there in this Indian village, their 
 religion seemed to partake of the nature of devil- 
 worship, and Wilson thought he discovered evidence 
 of even human sacrifice. But of this he was not at 
 all certain, and I myself am inclined to doubt it. 
 
 Dr. Debrett went slowly away, and sat quietly 
 down on the sunny side of his own hut, which was 
 
298 SICKNESS AND SORROW 
 
 covered with skins, lined witli skins, and probably 
 the most comfortable in the whole village. 
 
 Wilson sat down beside him, but the Doc. took no 
 notice. 
 
 Only he could be heard muttering to himself, now 
 and then : — 
 
 "Dr. Debrett? Dr. Debrett? Didn't I used to 
 know the doctor once upon a time, ever, ever so 
 long ago? And wasn't he married? Oh, yes, a 
 charming little wife. Died — a terrible accident. 
 And I — yes, I was as much grieved as Dr. Debrett 
 himself. Strange that I should have taken it so to 
 heart. Strange — strange — strange ! " 
 
 Wilson was very much pleased when he found 
 that, with only two Indians to act as guides, he 
 could dash down the river all the way to Fort Sel- 
 kirk, and so on to Dawson City itself. 
 
 But as there would be some porterage needed at 
 cataracts, another big canoe, with five Indians as its 
 crew, was got ready. 
 
 Everything was prepared in a single night, and 
 early next morning, much to the sorrow of every one 
 in the village, Wilson and the Doc. departed. He 
 suffered himself to be led down to the river, as 
 quietly as a child would have done. 
 
 Then the voyage was at once commenced. 
 
 The river was a rapid one, at some places ex- 
 tremely so ; but the rowers were exceedingly expert, 
 and knew the stream in its every feature. 
 
 At times the boats dashed on with inconceivable 
 
SICKNESS AND SORROW 299 
 
 speed; at otlier times it was considerably less, but 
 never slow. 
 
 Yet there were many places at which the guide 
 called a halt, and at these the canoes or boats had to 
 be landed and hauled along the banks. 
 
 This was no easy work, when the sides were steep 
 and rocky, though, much to Wilson's joy, Debrett 
 himself gave assistance, in a mechanical sort of way, 
 however, as if he had been some wonderful piece of 
 automatic machinery. 
 
 Still, there was a ray of hope in this. 
 
 At times Wilson Webb tried to draw him out, but 
 it was evident enough the poor fellow's memory was, 
 for the time being at all events, completely gone. 
 
 Under other and happier circumstances, and with 
 other company, that voyage down the beautiful river 
 would have been all one long and pleasant picnic. 
 
 It was summer now, and the woods and lower hills 
 were very beautiful, and the wild flowers bloomed all 
 along the banks of the river or clung to the rocks 
 in great patches or curtains of snow-white, blue, and 
 crimson. 
 
 Anxious though he was to get home, Wilson 
 would often make his Indian rowers lie on their 
 oars, that he might listen to the gush of bird melody 
 which everywhere filled the air. 
 
 Dawson City once more I 
 
 And Wilson lost no time in hurrying on to his 
 camp and claim, hoping to find all well, as, assuredly, 
 he would find a welcome. 
 
CHAPTER XXIX 
 
 THE CLOUD HAS LIFTED 
 
 " ]\Iusic that dwells 
 Lingering, and wandering on as loth to die ; 
 Like thoughts whose very sweetness yieldeth proof, 
 That they were born for immortality." 
 
 — Wordsworth. 
 
 Yes, everything w«s well, and Wilson Webb could 
 not help thinking it was really worth his while to 
 have been so long away just to receive so happy a 
 welcome, and such evidences that there was one 
 beincr who loved him better than all the world, and 
 that was Maddie. 
 
 But the only words she could utter were, "Oh, 
 Wilson ! " Then she flung herself into his arms, and 
 cried. 
 
 " I've had such a long and weary time," she said, 
 when at last she found speech ; " and I've had such 
 dreams, I will never, never let you leave me more." 
 
 When he led Maddie into the house, Wilson 
 seemed suddenly to recollect himself. He gazed 
 anxiously around the room. 
 
 " Dr. Debrett ? " he said ; " Charlie ? Is he not 
 here, and did he not come in?" 
 
 300 
 
THE CLOUD HAS LIFTED 3OI 
 
 He waited not for a reply, but went hurrying out 
 again. 
 
 No one, not even the Indians, seemed to have 
 noticed which way he had gone. 
 
 But some instinct — for reason, ahis ! had fled — 
 appeared to have guided the poor Doc. to the heap 
 of charred wood that had once been his happy home ; 
 and there Wilson found him, sitting on a half-burned 
 log of wood. His hands were pressed over his face, 
 and, while his chest heaved con\'Tilsively, the tears 
 were gushing through his fingers. 
 
 Wilson was no doctor, yet he had been told that 
 the insane never weep. He looked upon what he 
 now beheld, therefore, as a good sign, and simply 
 sat beside his friend and watched him. 
 
 At last, with a long-drawn, broken sort of a sigh, 
 he looked up. 
 
 Then lie stretched out his thin cold hand toAvards 
 Wilson. 
 
 " It was there," he said, pointing to the ruins ; 
 "just there. The tragedy I The fearful tragedy ! " 
 
 Even these words caused Wilson's heart to beat 
 high with hope. 
 
 " Poor Debrett ! Poor Charlie ! " continued the 
 Doc. 
 
 Then Wilson's newly awakened hope died sud- 
 denly away in his heart, for his friend had evidently 
 lost his own identity, and fancied himself some 
 other man. 
 
 And yet he was so very gentle withal, and 
 
302 THE CLOUD HAS LIFTED 
 
 appeared grateful, indeed, for every little service 
 done liim, whether by Maddie, Leebie, or Wilson 
 himself. ' 
 
 I have said that our liero was no doctor, but he 
 was a man of common sense, and, with all due 
 respect to the noble profession, to which I have 
 the honour to belong, common sense is a quality 
 not possessed by every medical man. 
 
 Wilson had a happy thought ! He took his poor 
 friend by the hand and led him back as if he had 
 been a little child. 
 
 Then he called the chief Indian guide. 
 
 " Chee-shoh," he said, " you know the white man 
 well?" 
 
 "Yea, yea, and net-ee-7iee tlmn [I love him]." 
 
 "Well, I will give you many more blankets and 
 much tobacco, if you will stay here for some months 
 and take care of him." 
 
 «I stop — I stop!" cried Chee-shoh. "I stop 
 plenty long." 
 
 And so it was arranged. A spare hut was 
 specially arranged for the doctor, and this would 
 be his quarters ; for Wilson determined that he 
 would take his friend back with him as far as San 
 Francisco, and there find him a home. 
 
 It was all very sad, he told Maddie, "and yet, 
 oh, dear," he added, "it may be all for the best; and 
 the loss of memory in a case like this may really be 
 a blessing in disguise." 
 
 And now all claims were worked with energy. 
 
THE CLOUD HAS LIFTED 303 
 
 The doctor's turned out w.ell, and even the o-dd 
 that had been buried in the ruins of the hut was 
 recovered; so tliat the poor man was very far, 
 indeed, from being- a pauper. 
 
 Every evening Wilson took his violin and went 
 across to the doctor's hut. At lirst, he hardly 
 seemed to hear the music, so distrait was he, but 
 gradually it seemed to creep into his very soul; and 
 now he used to listen with rapt attention to every 
 bar and slide and chord. 
 
 I think that the mystic power of music, as a 
 mental medicine, is hardly yet fully ajjpreciated by 
 the profession. 
 
 It must be music, however, that shall be in per- 
 fect accordance with the spirit of the listener. It 
 must be 
 
 " The still, sad music of humanity " — 
 
 music not necessarily melanclioly, yet not too bright. 
 
 Wilson used to play with the mute on. It 
 sounded ever so much more soft and sweet. 
 
 Sometimes, as he played, tears would course 
 silently down his poor friend's cheeks. Thoug]i 
 something assured him that this Avas a hopeful sign, 
 he took no notice, but just played on. 
 
 But one evening Wilson Webb tried an experi- 
 ment. It might have been a rash one, nevertheless. 
 
 He played, low and sweetly, that charming old 
 song, "Ever of thee." 
 
 It had been a great favourite with Lilla, his young 
 
304 THE CLOUD HAS LIFTED 
 
 and beautiful wife, and Charlie never used to tire 
 hearing it. 
 
 " Ever of thee I'm fondly dreaming, 
 
 Thy gentle voice my spirit can cheer ; 
 Thou wert the star so mildly beaming, 
 
 That shone o'er my path when all was dark and drear. 
 
 " Still in my heart thy memory I cherish, 
 
 Every kind thought like a bird flies to thee. 
 Ah ! never till life and memory perish 
 Can I forget how dear thou wert to me. 
 Morn, noon, and night, where'er I may be, 
 Fondly I'm dreaming — ever of thee." 
 
 A very sweet voice had Wilson Webb ; and as he 
 played, he sang over his instrument. And from his 
 eyes some tears had fallen, so that even when the 
 music in sweet, sad cadence died away, he did not 
 look up immediately, for his sight was blurred and 
 misty. 
 
 When he did at last glance towards his friend, he 
 noticed that a change had come over the poor fellow's 
 face, such as he could not have believed possible. 
 
 That was no longer the countenance nor the eyes 
 of one insane, but that of a clear-minded, think- 
 ing, reasoning being. A grief-stricken countenance, 
 nevertheless. 
 
 He held out his hand ; and with feelings that he 
 could not himself have described, Webb grasped it. 
 
 " Oh, Wilson ! " said the doctor, " the cloud has 
 been withdrawn. I am myself again. But tell me, 
 dear friend, how long have I been illf'' 
 
 "A whole year, Charlie. One long year ! " 
 
THE CLOUD HAS LIFTED 305 
 
 " Ever since that awful night when I lost my poor 
 wife ? " 
 
 "Ever since then." 
 
 " But tell me the story, for all the past since then 
 till now is a blank." 
 
 And Wilson told him everything he knew, — about 
 his sudden disappearance, about his being consid- 
 ered dead, about his life among the Blue Mount;dn 
 Indians, and his (Wilson's) going to bring him 
 down the river. 
 
 " INIy dear fellow," said the doctor, " I owe my life 
 to you. The cloud has lifted, but it leaves me 
 plunged in grief." 
 
 " Ah ! Charlie, friend, she is in a better world. 
 Do not grieve for her. You would not bring her 
 back, surely ? " 
 
 "• I would not be so selfish. Our married life was 
 brief ; but oh, it was happy ! My only regret is 
 that I did not die instead of Lilla. And now," he 
 continued, " you must stay with me, Wilson, just a 
 few hours longer, because I would sleep. I may 
 sleep many, many hours ; but do not wake me." 
 
 As he spoke, he partially undressed, and crept 
 into his cot under the mosquito curtain. 
 
 "Play now, Wilson," he murmured. "Play and 
 sing that sweet, sad song again." 
 
 Wilson gladly did as he was told ; but long before 
 he had finished, the gentle rising and falling of his 
 patient's chest, told him that sleep had claimed him 
 as its OAvn. 
 
 X 
 
306 THE CLOUD HAS LIFTED 
 
 Wilson rose now, and whispered some words to 
 the Indian nurse ; then he left the hut and stole 
 quietly away to his own house, to tell every one 
 there the joyful tidings. 
 
 But he returned again to the hut, and both he and 
 the Indian watched beside the sleeper all night long. 
 
 Yet scarcely could it be called night at this sea- 
 son ; for hardly did tlie sun go down, and scarcely 
 ever did the wild birds cease to sing. 
 
CHAPTER XXX 
 
 cajSt this be death? 
 
 " How wonderful is Death ! 
 Death and his brother Sleep." — Shelley. 
 
 " Get up! " cried Jack, "let John sit down, 
 
 For we are homeward bound." — Old Song. 
 
 Tered out at last, Wilson Webb sank into a kind 
 of doze in wliicli strano-e dream after strange dream 
 chased each other through the regions of his fancy. 
 
 How long he slept, he never knew. It may have 
 been for hours, but he was awakened at last by a 
 dream that partook almost of the nature of a night- 
 mare. He thought he had been wandering in a 
 forest, dark and deep, when a shadow fell between 
 him and the light. He was flying now from some- 
 thing, he could not tell wliat. Init, as in dreams of 
 this kind, his limbs refused to bear him, and he sank 
 down, the shadow darkening over him. Then be- 
 side liim he saw the dead body of his friend the 
 doctor, and, as if beckoning his spirit away to hap- 
 pier lands, a being whom he speedily recognised as 
 Lilla, but far more beautiful even than she had been 
 in life. He heard strains of dulcet music, too, and 
 
 307 
 
308 CAN THIS BE DEATH? 
 
 caught siicli glimpses of a far-off liappy land as 
 mortal eyes seldom are permitted to behold. 
 
 He started up now, wide-eyed, gasping, and per- 
 spiring at every pore. 
 
 Then a sickening terror took possession of him. 
 The doctor was dead ! So still he lay, so pale he 
 was, he could not be alive ! 
 
 There was not a movement in his frame. The 
 lips were slightly apart, but no breath seemed to 
 come tlierefrom. 
 
 Wilson placed a finger lightly on his pulse. 
 
 " Thank Heaven," he said, half aloud ; " he still 
 lives." 
 
 " He go now to de spirit land plenty mooch quick." 
 This from the Indian. 
 
 " I fear so," said Wilson, sadly. 
 
 There was no thought of mining that day, as far 
 as Wilson Webb was concerned. 
 
 Either he, Maddie, or Leebie sat beside the sleeper 
 all day long. 
 
 But towards evening Laurie, who had been on 
 watch, brought glorious news to the mansion. 
 
 The doctor was awake, refreshed and quiet. He 
 was sitting up, moreover, and had asked for food. 
 Wilson hastened to the hut, and found the good 
 news true. And from that very hour the doctor's 
 recovery dated. 
 
 He was naturally weak, and, moreover, he mourned, 
 as only a sensitive man can mourn, for the one benig 
 that had been so dear to him; who had been lent, as 
 
CAN THIS BE DEATH? 309 
 
 it were, for a brief space of time to bless liis life, and 
 then taken away. 
 
 "Wilson," said the Doc., about ten days after 
 this, " Fm drifting into low spirits and despond- 
 ency. Now, this must not be. I must prescribe 
 for m^'self what 1 should order for any other patient 
 — u'ork."' 
 
 " Are you strong enough ? " 
 
 "I'll get stronger every day." 
 
 And so the Doc. started work in his mine that 
 very forenoon. 
 
 " Grief," says a well-known author, "• is the parent 
 of fame." 
 
 This is certainly the case at times, so I believe ; 
 but one thing is sure enough, namely, that honest 
 work will banish grief. It has a healing action on 
 the brain. And this was well exemplified in the case 
 of Dr. Debrett. Not only did he get stronger in body 
 day by day, but in nund as well, and, to all appear- 
 ance, he was, in a short time, the most quietly happy 
 man about the camp. 
 
 ***** 
 
 The summer had brought swarms of fresh men, 
 and some women as well, to the regions al)out 
 Bonanza and El Dorado. 
 
 And greatly disappointed men most of these 
 were. They had really come liere with the idea, 
 that they woidd find gold lying about like " chuckie 
 stanes " (pebbles), and that they should only have 
 to gather it and go home again. But now, lo! they 
 
3IO CAN THIS BE DEATH? 
 
 found every claim taken up, and no cliance of get- 
 ting in anywhere. And, alas! scores of these 
 " green Englishmen " had sold everything they pos- 
 sessed in the old country to come out here, and now 
 were almost totally without the means of subsistence. 
 
 It was very sad. 
 
 Several went prospecting far afield. Men of stern 
 resolve these. True Britons, who would dare all to 
 live, or failing, die. Some were successful, and 
 found gold in abundance. 
 
 l>ut others there were who got soon discouraged, 
 and, being poorly fed, lost heart altogether, and, 
 hnally, found their way to Dawson City, there to 
 work at any odd jobs they could find to do. 
 
 One could not but feel sorry for these poor 
 fellows. They had sailed away from England or 
 from Scotland so full of hope and assurance of the 
 wealth, and with it the happiness, that a few short 
 months would bring them. 
 
 And now to be so rudely awakened from their 
 pleasant dreams, to the stern realities of a life not 
 worth living ; to cold, to hunger, to misery, and, as 
 often as not, to sickness that was but the forerunner 
 of early death. 
 
 Well, as the summer wore away, instead of the in- 
 flux of gold-seekers getting less, it really increased. 
 
 And they seemed to come from all directions; at 
 any rate, they did not all come up the great Yukon. 
 No, nor down it, either. 
 
CAN THIS BE DEATH? 311 
 
 And many of the newcomers seemed wealthy — 
 that is, well-to-do. 
 
 "I came here to win," one of these told Wilson 
 Webb. 
 
 "And I." 
 
 "And I." This from several others. 
 
 " Ya-as," drawled a somewhat sallow and lank 
 Yankee, who was smoking a cigar as big as an 
 umbrella when it is neatly rolled up, — well, more 
 or less, I mean, — " j^a-as, sir ; Fve been in gold 
 mines before, and digging, in my 'pinion, is just 
 like advertising — 3'ou want to keep on at it persis- 
 tent-like, if you are to make a pile." 
 
 " That's true," the others assented. 
 
 " But now here we are, and we've got to go pro- 
 specting. Worse luck ! Made sure we'd find 
 claims here to be almost given away." 
 
 " Well, gentlemen," said Wilson, " if you really want 
 to buy into some good claims, and if you can pay — " 
 
 " AVe ca7i pay." 
 
 " Call on me to-morrow at the mansion, say by 
 twelve o'clock. Mind this. I don't promise, posi- 
 tively, that there will be claims for sale. I only 
 just tliink there may be four." 
 
 " Hurrah ! We'll be there." 
 
 That same evening after supper, when the doctor, 
 Ernest, Laurie, and all sat round the fire, Wilson 
 Webb made a little speech. 
 
 Speech-making was not much in his line, only this 
 was a special occasion. 
 
312 CAN THIS BE DEATH? 
 
 " Friends," he said, without getting out of his 
 chair, "we've been here a long time, now, and tak- 
 ing the one thing with tlie other, I tliink we've been 
 precious lucky." 
 
 " Hear ! Hear ! " 
 
 " Well, I, for one, have made my pile. Twice or 
 thrice I've added considerably to the treasure-ship's 
 cargo. You boys have also done fairly." 
 
 " True ! " 
 
 " And my dear Doc, yours has lately worked 
 splendidly." 
 
 "That's so, Wilson." 
 
 " Well, much though I love Klondyke, I'm going 
 to leave it. The winter is but a measurable dis- 
 tance ahead of us, and owing to the famine of last 
 dark season, I doubt if we have enough food left to 
 take us through another ; so I'm going to sell out 
 to-morrow." 
 
 " But can you ? " said the Doc. 
 
 Then Wilson told them of his meeting with the 
 speculators, and of their intended visit next day to 
 buy claims — if they could. 
 
 Well, although Wilson's proposal was thoroughly 
 sifted and debated, it was finally agreed to unani- 
 mously. 
 
 So when the speculators arrived next day, they 
 found four capitally going claims for sale. 
 
 But not for nothing. 
 
 No ; Wilson Webb was a business man, and when 
 he was offered what he considered an insisfnificant 
 
CAN THIS BE DEATH? 313 
 
 sum, lie coolly lit a cigar and addressed the men as 
 follows : — 
 
 " Gentlemen," he said, " I realh' took you for men 
 of the world, but I find you are only school-boys. 
 Well, this interview ends right here. My price for 
 these four claims is — " 
 
 Here he named a very large sum. 
 
 " I'll give you an hour to consider about it. If 
 you don't see your way, the claims shall be put up 
 to auction in Dawson City." 
 
 "Here!" cried one who seemed to be at the head 
 of affairs, " we shall not want an hour to consider. 
 My advice to my friends is, Close at once. What 
 say you, men ? " 
 
 " Close," was the answer. 
 
 So, much to every one's satisfaction, the business 
 came to an end. 
 
 Those speculators were not men of straw ; but 
 large though the cheque paid to Wilson was, I have 
 heard that they took gold enough out of the four 
 claims, before the winter ended, to pay it six times over. 
 
 Young John had been asked to sell his claim, but 
 refused. He determined to work it for another year 
 at the very least, and so Wilson and his fellow- 
 travellers had to leave him behind. 
 
 " Good luck to you, John," said everybody. " And 
 mind," added Wilson, " that when 3'ou come to Eng- 
 land on your way to Paris, Avhere all good Ameri- 
 cans go, you must come to see us all. This is my 
 banker's address." 
 
314 CAN THIS BE DEATH? 
 
 " That will I," said young Jolm, " and if ever you 
 come to Chicago, just drop in, will you, and see the 
 finest city in all creation." 
 
 Young John had never been demonstrative, but 
 now, in saying good-bye to his friends, he displayed 
 far more feeling than any one would have given him 
 credit for. 
 
 Indeed, Leebie felt certain that she noticed tears 
 in those honest big blue eyes of his. 
 
 But Leebie might have been mistaken. 
 
 It had been a busy time for a whole week before 
 our people left the gold diggings. There was a 
 good deal to pack up, but everything they did not 
 want, and all the food they had not used, was put 
 to the hammer. Even the huts tliey had built and 
 their rough, primitive cooking-utensils and tools 
 were sold. 
 
 They retained their guns, however, and Wilson 
 laughingly proposed that they should also keep their 
 well-worn picks and shovels. So these were j^acked 
 up. 
 
 The men they had so befriended were as grieved 
 at parting as young John himself, and long after 
 they started for Dawson City that wild and heartfelt 
 cheer seemed ringing in their ears. 
 
 The doctor went to see the grave of poor Lilla, 
 his wife, before he left, and with him went Wilson. 
 He shed a tear or two, he reverently touched the 
 sod, and that was all. 
 
 " Good-bye, Lilla, good-bye," he said, or rather 
 
CAN THIS BE DEATH? 315 
 
 sif^lied. " For your sweet sake I sliall lead a better 
 life than e'er I've done before, that I may meet jou 
 in the world above. Good-bye." 
 
 The lucky gold-diggers were going to drop down 
 the river, and so on to St. Michael's, in their way 
 to San Francisco. 
 
 The steamer was late, however, and they had to 
 wait at Dawson City for nearly a weelc. And with 
 some considerable anxiety, too. For there was just 
 the chance of the river being hard frozen in that 
 portion of it which sweeps up into the Arctic re- 
 gions. If so, though it was only autumn yet, there 
 was the disagreeable and dismal probabilit}^ that 
 they might have to winter somewhere en route. 
 
 They were not sorry, therefore, when the steamer 
 was at long last floating down the stream. 
 
 And I am quite certain that the two dogs, Towsie 
 and Currie, knew as well as any one on board that 
 they were homeward bound. 
 
CHAPTER XXXI 
 
 THE WELCOME HOIME 
 
 oh, I have roamed o'er many lands, 
 
 And sailed o'er many a sea ; 
 But of all the spots on this sweet earth, 
 
 My British home for me ! 
 My British home ! My British home ! 
 
 Land of the good and free ! 
 And I would spill my Highland blood. 
 
 My British home, for thee. — G. S. 
 
 There are people in tliis world who really do not 
 know liow to enjoy themselves ; people possessed 
 of wealth who do not know in the least how to get 
 any pleasure therefrom. 
 
 But neither Wilson nor his friends belonged to 
 (his category. 
 
 There was a little bother farther north in getting 
 the ship through the floating ice, and a good deal of 
 hammering and poling was needed ; but at last they 
 got clear away, and in good time found themselves, 
 not onl}' at the mouths of the Yukon, but at St. 
 Michael's itself. 
 
 They were lucky enough to catch the very last 
 southward-bound steamship, and it was then, and 
 not till then, that Wilson Webb and the boys 
 
 316 
 
TPIE WELCOME HOME 317 
 
 thought they were quite justified in building a few 
 castles in the air. 
 
 I have said never a word about their correspond- 
 ence with the old country, during their gold-hunting 
 adventures in Klondyke. Letters came but seldom, 
 yet they kept in touch with friends and relations 
 nevertheless. And from the very latest accounts, 
 all was well at home. 
 
 The ship they were now on board of Avas a very 
 comfortable and, may I add, contented one. But 
 the adjective "contented," some may tell me, can 
 only be used to qualify that which possesses life. 
 Well, somehow I could never help looking at a ship 
 otherwise than as a living, sentient being. I am 
 just that much a sailor, at all events. But the 
 Annie Boleen, as the old-fashioned skipper called 
 her, had apparently made up her mind about a good 
 many things. She was fifty years of age if a day, 
 and therefore old enough to take matters easy. 
 "What is the good of hurry-scurry?" she seemed 
 to say. " With all their steam and rattle and noise, 
 with all the first mate's bawling and his use of 
 words not usually found in Scriptural texts, they'll 
 be very clever, indeed, if they can knock more than 
 ten knots out of me. But I'll get there, all the 
 same, one of these days. They may call me an old 
 tub if they like, and tell me that I shake and shiver 
 like an ancient clothes-basket whenever I get a clip 
 on the bow with a big sea or a runaway bit of ice ; 
 and the sailors may growl and growl because they 
 
31 8 THE WELCOME HOME 
 
 have to pump an hour in every watch. Pooh I what 
 does it matter to me ? Why, if a sailor had nothing 
 to growl at, he'd be as miserable a man as they make 
 them. As for me, I'm going to take tliis watery 
 world easy." 
 
 And she did. 
 
 She rose and fell on the long, racing seas in an 
 easy showdy-bowdy sort of a way that almost sent 
 one to sleep. When she was stern-down, with her 
 jib-boom in the air, the Annie Boleen seemed to be 
 studying astronomy ; when she did condescend to 
 dip her prow again, the bottom of the ocean appeared 
 to have such attractions for her, that she was not in 
 the slightest hurry to get on an even keel again. 
 
 Well, she rolled to starboard and she swung to 
 port, for all the world as if singing the cradle hymn 
 to herself. 
 
 " I say, matie," said the skipper one forenoon to 
 his first officer, " blow me tight, if I don't think that, 
 as the wind is about fair, we hadn't better bank fires 
 and clap sail on her. Blessed if I don't believe 
 we'll get as much out of the danged old consarn 
 under canvas, as under steam." 
 
 "A 'danged old consarn,' am I?" said the Ajinie 
 Boleen to herself. " Well, that's all ni}' thanks for 
 keeping afloat so long. That's all I get for having 
 weathered that awful gale off Pumnak, when two 
 other vessels went to the bottom pop ! " 
 
 " I'm o' your way o' thinkin', sir, and mebbe we'd 
 just as well let the fires out altogether." 
 
THE WELCOME HOME 319 
 
 ''Very Avell, inatie, very well." 
 
 So sail was set, and everything 011 board was far 
 more jolly, ship-shape, and comfortable after that. 
 
 " This is what I call something like being at sea," 
 said Wilson Webb, cheerfully. '' l)other the rattle 
 and the roar of dirty engines. I'uts me in mhid of 
 being in a jute factory all the time." 
 
 Everybody agreed with him, even the skipper 
 himself, but more especially the engineers and 
 stokers. -They could now smoke the calumet of 
 peace at the fo'c'sle head and breatlie pure air in- 
 stead of coal dust. 
 
 But what made this voyage all the more delightful 
 to Wilson and his little party, Avas that there were 
 very few passengers on board except themselves ; 
 so, cosy, indeed, were their dinners, and cosier still 
 their evenings, Avhen they sat around the big stove, 
 over which was placed a huge copper coffee -urn that 
 made the merriest kind of music imaginable, hissing 
 and steaming and throwing out a fragrance that was 
 very inviting. 
 
 But this was not the only music. For Wilson's 
 fiddle was like himself — never in better form. Even 
 the sailors used to " lay aft " to listen, and more than 
 one was heard to say that if he could oidy bring 
 music like that out of catgut, he would never tempt 
 the sea again. 
 
 During the first part of the voyage, although the 
 weather was fine, it was vcny cold, and there were 
 many streams of ice about. The long nights, too, 
 
320 THE WELCOME HOME 
 
 were dark, and the rattling or bumping on the bows 
 and along both sides of the ship, was terrific when 
 passing through the ice. The pieces were flat and 
 of no great size, but still large enough to bear the 
 weight of many a fur-seal or sea-lion that lay sound 
 asleep on these snow-clad rafts. 
 
 Well, with all her self-contentedness, the Annie 
 Boleen was a strong and a safe ship. This was 
 fully proved when a storm arose as they were pass- 
 ing through the Aleutian chain of islands. 
 
 It was but half a gale at first, and the skipper 
 hoped it would remain at that. He was disap- 
 pointed ; for the glass went tumbling down, and it 
 was necessary to shorten sail to such an extent that 
 the Annie was soon staggering along under very 
 little canvas indeed. 
 
 A fearful night succeeded a wild and stormy day. 
 Darkness closed around them a full hour before its 
 time. It would be but the truth to say that the 
 ship was enveloped in clouds, and so near aboard 
 did they seem, so closely did they hug the wind- 
 tossed ocean, that the masts seemed to cut them 
 asunder. The gale came tearing up astern, and 
 the waves that now and then broke over the Annie 
 Boleen so weighted her down, that both fore and aft 
 there was a momentary silence, which gave one the 
 impression that she was settling slowly down to the 
 black and slimy depths of the northern sea. And 
 every one felt relieved when they heard the roaring 
 of the wind again. 
 
THE WELCOME HOME 321 
 
 When dayliglit broke once more murkily over tlie 
 grey, unsettled ocean, and the storm-clouds went 
 trailing along the horizon, it was found that scarcely 
 a bulwark was broken, and not a single boat was 
 carried away. 
 
 " Wa-al," said the mate, " it is true enough, sir, 
 that Annie isn't a beauty to look at, but split my 
 mainsail, if she ain't a sturdy old craft, for all that." 
 An7iie Boleen seemed to shake her sides and laugh. 
 "True, true," the skipper said; ''I 'llow she 
 behaved better than many a new one would have 
 done. But several times, matie, durin' the awful 
 storm T did think we were going to Davy Jones." 
 
 "Oh! as for me, sir, I made sure of it. Look at 
 this, capting." 
 
 He held up a black bottle as he spoke. 
 " What's that, matie ? Ye don't mean to say you 
 were goin' to die drunk ? " 
 
 " Never a bone of me, sir. No Dutch courage for 
 this child. When I goes to heaven, sir, I goes quite 
 sober. But that's a bottle sealed, as you see, and 
 inside is a letter to my wife. Guess she'd never 
 have got it. Only you never can tell. Can you ? " 
 "No, matie." 
 
 The "matie" opened the bottle with his pocket 
 cork screw, and shook out the epistle, which he 
 proceeded to read. 
 
 "'The ^.^. Annie Boleen, iu tlie Bearing Seas of Alasker. 
 Beloved wife and children. Wich we're siukin fast. God be 
 merciful. But thinkiu more of you. Heaven will take care 
 
322 THE WELCOME HOME 
 
 of you. Last thoughts of you. Kiss Johiniie and Ellie. No 
 more — no more. 
 
 " ' Your loving husban, 
 
 " ' Tom Cassell, goin down.' " 
 
 "Glad, sir, I didn't throw it overboard." 
 
 " And so am I, niatie." 
 
 " Well, Mr. Wilson," lie added, as that individual 
 came up, making heavy weather, for there still was 
 a rough sea on, " well, how fares it below ? " 
 
 "We're all beautiful now." 
 
 " Sleep ? " 
 
 "Oh, yes, we all slept." 
 
 " Good for 3^ou. Well, it's going to be fine. 
 The glass is going up ; and in ten days' time, why, 
 we'll all be on shore at San Francisco." 
 
 And sure enough the good Aveather did come, — 
 blue skies, fleecy clouds, sun-kissed seas, and all 
 the rest of it, just the kind of weather to make a 
 poet out of even the dullest material. 
 
 Perhaps our heroes needed rest. I am of tliat 
 way of thinking, because, for many days now, while 
 the good ship sailed slowly into warmer weather, 
 they felt inclined to sleep most of the time. 
 
 But a brisk wind began to blow from the north- 
 north-east, and braced up the nerves of every man on 
 board. 
 
 Away forward Jack himself was singing all day 
 long. At eventide, after the main brace was spliced, 
 — for the skipper was generous in that way, — the 
 men leaned about the bows, smoking ; and from the 
 
TIIK WKLCOME HOME 323 
 
 bursts of hearty laugliing that rose every now and 
 then, it was evident that many a droll sea-yarn was 
 being spun, and many a tough tale told. 
 
 " I say," said Wilson one day, about a week after 
 they had landed in 'Frisco, and were all comfortably 
 housed in a homelike hotel, " Ikjw do you think I am 
 going to take you all home from New York ? " 
 
 '' The fastest ocean greyhound," ventured Ernest. 
 
 " No, not the fleetest," answered Wilson. " I am 
 in communication with Captain Barnes, and ten to 
 one, I shall buy his splendid ocean yacht." 
 
 " Capital ! " cried both Ernest and Laurie ; and 
 Avhen ]Maddie and Leebie got an inkling of Wilson's 
 intention, they went into raptures over the idea. 
 ***** 
 
 Well, nothing would satisfy the good doctor but 
 crossing the Rockies to have a look at the city of 
 "We're-all-here." 
 
 " After that," he said, " I shall purchase a practice 
 in Xew York ; for I love my profession, and idleness 
 w^ould soon kill me." 
 
 "But, my dear Doc," cried Wilson, "I've got an 
 idea that it would do these lads good to have a look 
 at the plains and the cowboys before going home to 
 tame, domestic, but dear old England. We can 
 leave the ladies here and return for them." 
 
 Leebie stamped her little foot. 
 
 " The ladies are going to cowboy land as well as 
 you," she said. " Aren't they, Maddie ? " 
 
 "Oh, yes, certainly." 
 
324 THE WELCOME HOME 
 
 And so it was arranged. So it had to be arranged 
 I ought to say. 
 
 One way or another the journey was a long and — 
 under other circumstances — it woukl have been con- 
 sidered a very fatiguing one. As it was, however, 
 everything went as merrily as marriage l^ells. 
 
 When they did arrive at last at " TFe're-all-here," 
 the boys turned out en masse to greet them, and their 
 welcome was a ten-horse -power one. 
 
 The editor himself was the first to extend a brown, 
 hard hand, and it was a case of "shake " all round. 
 
 And a very delightful week they spent among the 
 cowboys. Indeed, the more INIaddie and Leebie 
 saw of these honest fellows, the better they liked 
 them, so different were they from all the ideas that 
 have been fostered concerning them in our country. 
 
 But time wears away, and after a hearty farewell 
 they liad to leave cowboy land, and in a fortnight's 
 time had left New York itself, in the sea-yaclit 
 Anemone. 
 
 Who knows that I may not at some future time 
 tell you of the cruise round the world of this beau- 
 tiful vessel ? For such a cruise has been fully ar- 
 ranged, and by the time the reader's eyes scan these 
 pages Wilson's A^iemone will be far away in foreign 
 lands. 
 
 But this reminds me that my story is nearly, if not 
 quite, finished. 
 
 When I say that everybody at home was found to 
 
- THE WELCOME HOME 325 
 
 be well and happy, what need is there to expatiate 
 on the welcome the wanderers received ? 
 
 Only some things must be told. 
 
 Well, Bobbie, the daft, wee pony, was out in the 
 field, and so was Neddy, his companion. Both ran 
 to the gate to meet the boys and Leebie, but their 
 ways of ex})ressing their joy differed somewhat. 
 
 Bobbie thrust his warm nose into Leebie's arms, 
 and really seemed to sob and sigh. He had quite 
 given her up for lost, and her sudden return was 
 almost too much for his nerves, and made him 
 hysterical for the time being. 
 
 But Neddy, after kicking his heels in the air sev- 
 eral times, and even trying to walk on his hind legs, 
 burst into what appeared to be an uncontrollable fit 
 of such hearty laughter, that even the dogs had to 
 take part in it, and in order to allay their feelings 
 fly round and round the field in a circle, but so 
 swiftly that they could scarce be seen. 
 
 Wilson and his wife became the guests of the 
 squire for a month and more, and there was not a 
 friend or neighbour all round the country-side, that 
 he did not invite to his house just to hear the trav- 
 ellers speak of all their adventures in the land of 
 gold. Indeed, he even imported people from Lon- 
 don to meet them ; for this jolly old squire was en- 
 thusiastic to a degree. 
 
 ***** 
 Well, Farmer Lea himself is a man that can always 
 take things easy, and no doubt he was exceedingly 
 
326 THE WELCOME HOME 
 
 glad to see Laurie and Leebie, and even Towsie and 
 Currie, all baek home safe and sound. On the con- 
 trary, Mrs. Lea was somewhat nervous and demon- 
 strative, and she really could not, for a considerable 
 time, believe her own eyes that her children were 
 indeed before her. But those eyes were really con- 
 siderably dimmed with tears; for if she laughed one 
 minute, she cried the next. 
 
 About a week after his return, Laurie proposed 
 that his father should give up the farm and live in 
 a city. 
 
 Laurie was sly, for he knew pretty well what the 
 answer would be. 
 
 " Leave the country, Laurie ! *Give up my farm ! 
 Never see the green fields and woods again, and the 
 horses that know and love me ! No, Laurie, no. 
 When I leave my farm, it will be to take my place 
 in the old churchyard yonder, where my fathers sleep 
 so soundly." 
 
 " Father, it was only my fun ; but the farm does 
 not pay very well, does it ? " 
 
 "The rent is somewhat high, my lad." 
 
 " Well, father, look ! " 
 
 Laurie j^laced a batch of title-deeds in his hand. 
 
 The farm was a farm no longer, but a small free- 
 hold estate. 
 
 " God bless you, my son ! God bless you, boy ! " 
 
 " No, no, father, not for that. What should I do 
 else with my money, I wonder ? Oh, I am old 
 enough to know it is more blessed to give than to 
 
THE WELCOME HOME 327 
 
 receive. But I love the dear old liome as much as 
 you. And I shall never leave it, either. 
 
 " Besides," Laurie continued, " Ernest is going to 
 build a lovely house on the hill beside the lake, and 
 he will thus be our nearest neighbour after he mar- 
 ries Leebie." 
 
 " Eh ? What ? ^Marries — say it again ! " 
 
 "Oh, father, Leebie is no longer a child, but a 
 young woman ; and I know for certain that, willi 
 your consent, what I have said is coming off in a 
 year or two, at most.'" 
 
 " So may they be happy,"' said Farmer Lea, sink- 
 inor into a chair ; " but dear me I dear me I I never 
 thought that little Leebie would get old — nor 
 mj^self, either. But — the Lord's will be done." 
 
 THE END