Revolution and Other Essays

From the time of the fi rst white man, famine loomed black and gloomy over the land. It was chronic with the Indians and Eskimos; it became chronic with the gold hunters. It was ever present, and so it came about that life was commonly ex­pressed in terms of “grub,” – was measured by cups of fl our. Each winter, eight months long, the heroes of the frost faced starvation. It became the custom, as fall drew on, for partners to cut the cards or draw straws to determine which should hit

There was never food enough to winter the whole popula­tion. The A. C. Company worked hard to freight up the grub, but the gold hunters came faster and dared more audaciously. When the A. C. Company added a new stern-wheeler to its fl eet, men said, “Now we shall have plenty.” But more gold hunters poured in over the passes to the south, more voyageurs and fur traders forced a way through the Rockies from the east, more seal hunters and coast adventurers poled up from Bering Sea on the west, more sailors deserted from the whale-ships to the north, and they all starved together in right brotherly fashion. More steamers were added, but the tide of prospec­tors welled always in advance. Then the N. A. T. & T. Company came upon the scene, and both companies added steadily to their fl eets. But it was the same old story; famine would not de­part. In fact, famine grew with the population, till, in the win­ter of 1897-1898, the United States government was forced to equip a reindeer relief expedition. As of old, that winter part­ners cut the cards and drew straws, and remained or pulled for salt water as chance decided. They were wise of old time, and had learned never to fi gure on relief expeditions. They had heard of such things, but no mortal man of them had ever laid eyes on one.

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how Alaska happened to be. While no adequate conception of the life can be given to the stay-at-home, yet the men them­selves sometimes give a clew to its rigors. One old Minook miner testifi ed thus: “Haven’t you noticed the expression on the faces of us fellows ? You can tell a newcomer the minute you see him; he looks alive, enthusiastic, perhaps jolly. We old miners are always grave, unless we’re drinking.”

cases are incurable.”

were permitted to go upon the ground of their more fortunate comrades and take out enough for the next year’s grub-stake.

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the Indian River tributaries, just missed fi nding the rich creeks, Sulphur and Dominion, and managed to make grub (poor grub) out of Quartz Creek and Australia Creek. Then he crossed the divide between Indian River and the Klondike, and on one of the “feeders” of the latter found eight cents to the pan. This was considered excellent in those simple days. Naming the creek “Gold Bottom,” he recrossed the divide and got three men, Munson, Dalton, and Swanson, to return with him. The four took out $750. And be it emphasized, and em­phasized again, that this was the fi rst Klondike gold ever shov-

will, open-handed, told Carmack of his discovery. But Car­mack was satisfi ed where he was. He was possessed by no overweening desire for the strenuous life. Salmon were good enough for him. But Henderson urged him to come on and locate, until, when he yielded, he wanted to take the whole tribe along. Henderson refused to stand for this, said that he must give the preference over Siwashes to his old Sixty Mile friends, and, it is rumored, said some things about Siwashes that were not nice.

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Weeks afterward, when Bonanza and Eldorado were staked from end to end and there was no more room, a party of late comers pushed over the divide and down to Gold Bottom, where they found Henderson still at work. When they told him they were from Bonanza, he was nonplussed. He had nev­er heard of such a place. But when they described it, he recog­nized it as Rabbit Creek. Then they told him of its marvellous richness, and, as Tappan Adney relates, when Henderson real­ized what he had lost through Carmack’s treachery, “he threw down his shovel and went and sat on the bank, so sick at heart that it was some time before he could speak.”

Then there were the rest of the old-timers, the men of For­ty Mile and Circle City. At the time of the discovery, nearly all of them were over to the west at work in the old diggings or prospecting for new ones. As they said of themselves, they were the kind of men who are always caught out with forks when it rains soup. In the stampede that followed the news of Carmack’s strike very few old miners took part. They were not there to take part. But the men who did go on the stampede were mainly the worthless ones, the newcomers, and the camp hangers-on. And while Bob Henderson plugged away to the east, and the heroes plugged away to the west, the green­horns and rounders went up and staked Bonanza.

looked over the ground, – the unlikeliest place for gold in all their experience, – and they went down the river again, “leav­ing it to the Swedes.”

a few hundred dollars. Two miners, who had staked No. 29 El­dorado, decided that he was the proper man upon whom to “unload.” He was too canny to approach sober, so at consider­able expense they got him drunk. Even then it was hard work, but they kept him befuddled for several days, and fi nally in­veigled him into buying No. 29 for $750. When Anderson so­bered up, he wept at his folly, and pleaded to have his money back. But the men who had duped him were hard-hearted. They laughed at him, and kicked themselves for not having tapped him for a couple of hundred more. Nothing remained for Anderson but to work the worthless ground. This he did, and out of it he took over three-quarters of a million of dollars.