CHAPTER VIII.
ALIVE OR DEAD?
It seemed to Tom that he had hardly been asleep five minutes, when hefelt a hand on his shoulder.
"Wake up, my boy! Baranov is on the wharf, waiting for you."
With only half his wits about him, and a vague remembrance of hisexperience the previous year, Tom sprang up hastily, crying out, "Isthere a fire?" Then he saw his father's expression, amused, but alittle anxious, and remembered the plan for the day.
"What are you up for, father?" he asked, as he scrambled into his thicktraveling suit. "You ought to be sound asleep in your berth."
Mr. Percival smiled, in reply. "I wanted to see you start," he saidsimply. Ah, these patient, loving, anxious fathers and mothers who getup early to see their children start, and sit up late to welcome themhome! How little we think of it when we are boys--how the recollectionof it all, and of our own heedlessness comes to us, in after years!
Fred was already up, as he shared Tom's stateroom on the steamer. In afew minutes more they were out in the sweet morning air, and, steppingsoftly and speaking in low tones, not to disturb the sleepers, theypassed through the gangway and down to the wharf, accompanied by Mr.Percival.
The sun was just rising, and the whole sky was golden with its coming,over the dark eastern hills. It would be an hour or more before hisfirst rays would rest on the house-tops of Juneau.
There was the old hunter, leaning against one of the mooring-posts, andlooking off over the quiet Sound, to the dim blue mountains beyond. Athis feet lay a large pack, two tin dippers and an ax. In the hollow ofhis left arm he held two guns.
As the travelers left the steamer, he turned toward them with an alertair that belied his previous slouching attitude and straggling,iron-gray hair. The first greetings over, he proceeded at once todivide the luggage.
"I'll take the pack," said he, "and my ax. You two boys take theguns--we sha'n't need to load 'em much before noon. Tie a tin dipperaround your waist, each of ye. Here's some twine."
"Have you got provisions?" asked Mr. Percival.
"Plenty," replied Solomon. "All ready, boys?"
"Good-by! good-by!" they said, still speaking quietly. While Fred,seeing a crimson handkerchief--which looked remarkably like one worn byKittie the day before--waving from one of the little stateroom windows,waved his in return.
"Good-by, Fred. My dear boy," turning to Tom, "take care of yourself.Remember, if you are delayed, I shall not leave Juneau without you.Allow plenty of time for the return trip. Be very careful of the guns.Good-by!"
The anxious father pressed both the boys' hands. They turned away, andpassing around the buildings at the head of the wharf, were soon out ofsight.
Once more he saw them, as they climbed the first low hill, back of thetown. They waved their hats to him, then disappeared in the edge of theforest.
All the party were rather grave at the breakfast table, that morning.Mrs. Percival had been greatly disinclined to consent to the hunt, butshe was a strong woman, and was afraid of trusting her feelings in amatter where she admitted her husband was the best judge.
In the forenoon Randolph accompanied his uncle to the Silver Bow Basin,and inspected for himself the marvelous valley whose sands are sofilled with precious metal that miners for years have worked in it hereand there, successfully washing out gold with the rudest contrivances.
The superintendent in charge of the principal works showed them thetunnel, and the process of sluicing out the sand by a powerful streamof water, or "hydraulicking," as he called it. The stream plunged intothe sand in a deep pit, and then rushed off rapidly through a longtunnel which had been dug and blasted through the rocky heart of themountain toward the sea.
"What takes the gold out?" asked Randolph.
"Why, we place those cross pieces, or riffles, at short distancesall the way down, in the sluice-way which runs the whole length ofthe tunnel. On the upper side of the riffles is placed a quantity ofquicksilver for which the gold has such an affinity (it sinks to thebottom of the stream), that it combines with it. Every week or so wehave a 'clean up,' when a good many thousand dollars' worth of gold istaken out and shipped South."
"When do you begin to work?" asked Mr. Percival.
"Well, we calculate to commence operations about the first of May. It'saccording to the season. Of course we can't get our power until thesnow melts on the mountains, and we get a good head of water."
After a thorough examination of these mines, they returned to thevillage, and in the afternoon took the ferry boat to Douglas Island,where they once more inspected the great treadwell mine which sometimesturns out a hundred thousand dollars' worth of gold in a single month.
ALASKAN BASKET WEAVERS AT HOME.]
The ore here is imbedded in quartz, which is crushed in an immensestamp-mill where the noise of the crushers was so great that theloudest shout could not be heard. Randolph and Mr. Percival couldonly communicate with the guide and with each other by signs, as theywalked through the building.
While these two were off on their mining tour, Bessie managed, with thehelp of a cane and Mr. Selborne's arm, to walk slowly along the mainstreet of Juneau. There were a number of fur stores, and others withbeautiful displays of Chilkat blankets and baskets, the latter in manyodd varieties of shape and color.
Native women sat in groups, with their wares spread out on the sidewalkbefore them; baskets, carvings, silver bracelets, and a queer kind oforange-colored fruit which the visitors found were the famous "salmonberries" of Alaska.
Rossiter bought a silver spoon, finely carved, with some sort of abird's-head design.
"What kind of a bird is it?" asked the minister.
The Alaskan shook his head, to show he did not understand.
"What kind?" asked Rossiter again, very slowly, and a little moreloudly, as one is apt to speak, in trying to converse with a foreigner.
The native seemed now to gather the meaning of the question, but wasat a loss to express himself in reply.
Suddenly with a quick smile he flapped his arms like wings, and cried"Caw! caw!"
"Ah," exclaimed Selborne, "it's a raven!" and the vendor nodded hishead violently, much gratified at the success of his pantomime.
Next morning the sole topic was, How soon will they return? Have theyfound any game? Won't they be tired!
Captain Carroll pinned up a notice in the main saloon, stating that thesteamer would sail at three in the afternoon, the repairs having beencompleted more quickly than he had expected.
Mr. Percival looked troubled at the change of plan, but there was nohelp for it. Every hour of delay was an additional expense to thecompany; and besides, certain perilous straits ahead had to be passedat exactly such a tide, and the captain had made his calculationsaccordingly.
Noon came, but with it no sign of the hunters.
One o'clock. All the Percival party, and indeed most of the steamer'spassengers who knew the situation and were acquainted with the boys,gathered on deck, gazing anxiously toward the high slopes which rimmedthe town. Still no indication of the returning party.
Mr. Percival now packed his own valise, as well as those of his sonand Fred, and told his family he should remain in Juneau if the boysdid not return in time for the boat. The _Queen_ was to touch here,contrary to its usual custom, to take a shipment of bullion on its wayback to the States. The party could manage quite well on board shipduring the intervening four or five days; and although Mrs. Percival'sheart was torn with anxiety, she could see no better plan.
At three o'clock, therefore, Mr. Percival stood on the wharf withthe three portmanteaus, and the _Queen_, giving a long blast of itswhistle, moved majestically northward.
The head of the family who had thus remained behind soon foundcomfortable lodgings for himself near by, and then repaired directly tothe wharf, where he was sure the belated hunters would hasten at once,on their return.
Supper-time came, and a poor meal he made of it, at his lodging-house.Returning to the wharf
he vainly paced the planks in the goldentwilight until nearly midnight, when he slowly retraced his steps tohis lodgings, full of forebodings and self-reproach for his weakness inconsenting to indulge his heedless boy in such a reckless undertaking.
In the morning he was astir at sunrise, but his repeated and anxiousinquiries failed to reveal any news of the absent ones.
Looking haggard and old, he set about raising a relief party, to startup the mountain at once. Alive or dead, they must be found!
Gulf and Glacier; or, The Percivals in Alaska Page 8