Читать книгу Gold Hunting in Alaska онлайн

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We had some narrow escapes, especially Cox, who fell into a whirlpool. He was dragged off his feet by the rushing water, but we pulled him into the boat after a frightful struggle.

On the fourth day out Clyde and I thought we would explore a little canon. Harry Reynolds had washed out several pans of sand from different bars on the way up, but had not found a trace of gold. Clyde and I hoped to have better luck, and started out in high spirits with spade and pick and gold-pan to do our first prospecting.

We found a brook in the cañon where we panned some without success. Finally we found a place where the stream ran over bed-rock. The rock had cracks and fissures running crosswise with the stream, so we reasoned that if there was gold above, particles would have been caught in these cracks. We dammed the brook and turned the stream to one side, exposing the fissures in the rock. We then gathered several pans of sand from the niches, examining it with wistful eyes, but no trace of gold did we find. So we gave it up on that stream. We found nothing save Fool's Gold. We kept on up the cañon and, as it was yet early, decided to climb the mountain peak. As we went up the spruces grew smaller and finally disappeared. The sides were barren save for a thin covering of moss and lichens and patches of stunted huckleberry bushes. These bushes, not more than three or four inches high, bore hordes of luscious ripe huckleberries, and nearly every hundred feet in our climb we would drop on our knees on the soft moss and till ourselves, so often could we find room for more. Another little black spicy berry growing in crannies was good. Just as we were toiling up the last slope a flock of twenty white ptarmigan flew up in front of us, and circled down to another ridge. They, too, had been feeding on the huckleberries.