Читать книгу Gold Hunting in Alaska онлайн

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Some of our crowd think we had a hard time, but when we compare our lot with that of others we see it differently. Hundreds are toiling up in the rain, towing their loaded skiffs mile after mile along muddy banks. We have not had an accident worth mentioning unless it be the loss of a water pail. We took the wrong channel once coming up and steamed twenty-four hours up a branch river. It was the Squirrel River, and although but a tributary to the Kowak, is as large as the Sacramento and San Joaquin combined. It was so very crooked that at one point where we stopped to wood up. I climbed a hill and could see its route for several miles. Our course went around the compass once and half way again. When we got back to the Kowak we made good time until we reached the first rapids, where our trouble began. The "Helen" would swing around and lose all she had made every few minutes when the current struck her broadside. Finally a squad of us took to the river bank with a long tow-rope, and foot by foot she was towed past the critical points. There were six of these rapids. When the wind blew there was fresh trouble; it would catch on the side of the "house" and blow the boat around in spite of us. She almost got away from us once, and we were in danger of being dragged off the bank, in spite of the fact that we dug our heels into the ground and braced with might and main. It was a tug of war. And such is gold hunting in the Far North!