Читать книгу Susannah of the Yukon - Muriel Denison - Страница 7

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Before noon the next day they arrived at Skagway. Sue could hardly believe her eyes. It was the queerest place she had ever seen, with the streets and houses raised high above the marshes. The whole town looked as if it were built on stilts. The shores were muddy and brown and the wharves little better than shaky sidewalks, built out on log piers into the water. Drawn up on the beach lay all kinds of shabby old boats. There were queer, untidy men upon the dock. Everything was very dirty and a disagreeable, sour smell seemed to be over everything.

Jocko came to say good-by. Sue told him that she didn’t like Skagway.

“Oh, you’re not off the boat yet,” he said.

“But it smells,” said Sue. “It isn’t clean.”

“Well, Miss Sue,” said Jocko, laughing, “you may have been able to clean me up but it’ll take more than you to clean up Skagway. It’ll take the whole Force.”

Sue tied a knot in her hankie to remind her to tell Michael about this and Jocko said good-by. He was getting off the boat as soon as the gangplank was down and going right through to Dawson City. There were those rumors that the freeze-up might come early.

Friends of his, he said, were waiting for him at the Sheep Camp and, being a small party, they would travel faster than the Police.

“But when will I see you again?” asked Sue, for she and Jocko were fast friends now, and he had told her tales of dogs and gold and mules and snow that made her anxious not to lose him.

Jocko smiled down at her. “I’ll call on you on Christmas Day,” he said, “in Dawson.”

Sue thought it would be a long time to wait to see him, and watched him swing down the gangplank and across the wharf until he was lost in the crowd. The bustle and confusion grew. There were sharp commands and calls coming in every direction, bugles blowing, whistles shrieking, and everyone pushing to get off first.

Michael came down to them for a moment. “Don’t hurry. Get off among the last,” he said. “This crowd will melt away in a short time.”

A few moments later Sue saw her Mounties march down the gangplank and ashore. “Look, Mummy!” she cried. “Look at them. See how everyone stands aside.”

True enough, the crowd parted and the Force, smiling and friendly, swung along the rough plank street.

The Captain was on hand to wish them luck as they left the Skagway Queen, and Michael met them as they stepped ashore. With him was a smiling, cheery woman.

“I’m Mrs. McGonigle, the Minister’s wife,” she said. “I heard you were coming and the hotels here won’t do for you at all. They’re full of miners and noisy most of the night. I should be happy to have you as my guests.”

Sue was glad her mother accepted the invitation, for already men on the wharf were talking about the Cheechakos. Sue learned that newcomers were called “Cheechakos” and that she was one of them. Those who had been in the gold country a year or more, were called “Sourdoughs.”

“Cheechakos,” repeated Sue to herself, softly, “I’m a Little Golden Hawk, I’m a Mountie, and now I’m Cheechako. What a lot of names!”

It was four days before the horses and mules and donkeys, the provisions and tents and other equipment were taken across the Lynn Canal to Dyea on open flat-bottomed barges. Sue wanted to see the horses loaded but Major Bell shook his head.

“It’s a rough business, transferring animals, Sue. You stay here with Mrs. McGonigle and Fieldy.”

Sue agreed. She had a secret all her own, and that afternoon, when the house was quiet, she got her treasure bag and took out of it a bag of beans and a beautiful, brand-new catapult. Jocko had given it to her as a good-by present and cautioned her to learn to use it accurately before she went far on the trail. She fastened a bean in the sling, took careful aim, and snapped the elastic. “I’m a pretty good shooter,” said Sue to herself. “I almost hit that tree,” and she slipped another bean in the sling.

At the end of three days’ practice, she could hit a bottle plumb in the middle, and when she stepped on board the little boat that took the party across the inlet to Dyea, it was with the feeling that she could protect Fieldy, her father and mother, and perhaps the whole Force with her shooting.

“The only trouble,” she explained to Hawkins, “is that I can’t load fast enough. I’d need a helper.”

“I’ll be there if you need one,” promised Hawkins, as he helped her off at Dyea. “This is the beginning of the Chilkoot Trail, Miss Sue.”

“Chilkoot,” said Sue to herself. “Chilkoot. Everyone seems awfully bothered over Chilkoot.”

There were ponies waiting for them and Sue watched them mount her mother astride like a man! Sue couldn’t understand that.

“Miss Vicky told me no lady could ride astride,” said Sue. “What has happened?”

“On this trip,” said Hawkins, “you ride astride all the way.”

“Like the Mounties,” said Sue, delightedly.

“Right you are, Miss Sue,” said Hawkins, and showed her how to mount. He told her that she had to ride astride for safety’s sake, that the high pummel in front of the saddle was to lean against or to clutch in both hands when they went climbing up or down the trail.

Her mother rode over to her. It was the first time she had worn her Yukon outfit and Sue thought she looked pretty enough to eat. Brown drill Norfolk jacket and a skirt which was divided so that when she rode astride it hung free on either side. A little brown hat with a brim which did not hide her curls. Tan boots and leggings.

“Ready, Sue?” she said. “Michael is going to give us our trail instructions.”

They rode over to Michael. Quietly he explained to them that, once they started, no one could dismount or go off the trail without orders. Whether they were tired or hungry or bored, they must stay on the trail, each horse following the other. Where the trail was narrow, they must ride carefully, giving their horses a free rein. The bugles would blow for rest or food intervals. But what he particularly impressed upon them was the fact that they were a party, that no one person could be considered more than another.

“Today,” he said, “we are going to make a Hudson’s Bay start.”

“What’s that mean?” broke in Sue.

“That means a short trip the first day,” answered Michael, “so that you can find the weak points in all your equipment, and whether the people in your party can stand the trip. Then, if anything goes wrong, you’re not too far away and you can return and patch up the trouble. All ready?”

“Almost,” answered Sue, as Hawkins helped her adjust her belongings. First Minnie-Pooh-Pooh, elegantly clad in a complete outfit of soft, chamois leather, had to be tucked into one saddlebag. In the other Fieldy was pushed, wriggling and protesting. It took some time to arrange Fieldy, but when soft moss was pushed into the bottom of the bag and his forepaws and head were out, he was happy.

“All ready?” called Michael.

“All ready,” they answered.

A bugle blew and up the narrow valley they started. Sometimes they went up and sometimes they went down, and one awful time they just had a narrow ledge of rock between them and a raging river. Sue’s heart almost stopped. Hawkins rode behind her.

“Are you all right, Miss Sue?” he called.

“Yes,” she answered, shakily. “At least I think I am.”

“Give your pony plenty of rein,” he called. “He knows better how to climb a mountain pass than you.” Sue gave the pony all the rein she had and, after a time, they left the narrow ledge behind.

First Minnie-Pooh-Pooh had to be tucked into one saddlebag. In the other Fieldy was pushed, wriggling and protesting

At noon the bugle blew and beside a little spring they had hard biscuits and strong, black tea and a few dried apricots to put in their pockets and nibble on the way. Sue hadn’t ever been allowed tea before. She thought it very bitter, but Hawkins said she had to take it, as all good campers drank hot tea.

“It’s a sort of stimulant,” said Hawkins. “It braces you for another climb.”

Sue found he was right. When the bugle blew for them to mount, she wasn’t a bit tired, and poked Fieldy in his bag herself without any help.

On and on they moved, sometimes at a brisk walk, other times just able to crawl around a curve of the mountain, but at last they reached a lovely valley with an easy path to follow and they closed up into pairs of riders and moved faster.

Now and then an eagle screamed from the mountainside, or a partridge whirred farther up into the trees. They were moving at an easy walk when suddenly the valley opened into a circular space which was called the Sheep Camp. This was where mountain sheep hunters had their camps and Sue thought it the most lovely place in the world. Around them, high rocky mountains climbed to the clouds, and below there were tall trees, springs, berry bushes, and vivid mosses.

They rode on at a fast clip, passing other travelers and their outfits, to where the advance party of Mounties had pitched their camp. Here, in a circle, were snowy-white bell tents, military neatness, and the delicious smell of freshly baked bannock. Sue lifted Fieldy out of his bag. “We’re in camp with the Mounties,” she said.

Major Bell took them to their tents.

Sue listened while he explained that the crowds in the Sheep Camp were miners, prospectors, Cheechakos—all hurrying to the land of gold. She learned that all supplies had to be carried over the high pass and that often it took three to four days of climbing up and down the trail before a man’s supplies were at the top.

“You see, Sue,” said the Major, “we require a man to have a year’s supply of food before we let him enter the Yukon. This is not only for his own protection, but for the protection of others, who might have to share their supplies to feed him. That wouldn’t be fair.”

Sue nodded. She understood, for the Commissioner had given her a little knapsack to carry on her back for her treasures and in it, among other things, was her little bag of pemmican.

“Show me Chilkoot,” said Sue.

“There,” said the Major, and pointed upwards.

Sue looked. One of the tallest mountains she had ever seen rose in front of her, covered almost all the way with snow. Halfway up there was a string of figures, black like ants, moving slowly upwards.

“Do we climb up there?” asked Sue. The Major nodded. “And how long do we stay here?” Sue continued.

“About four days,” said the Major, “while our supplies are packed up the Pass.”

Sue thought she would never forget the next four days. It was such fun to ride a little donkey, or burro, called Softy. Donkeys, she learned, were very sure-footed, and for the carrying of passengers and packs in the high mountains, most valued animals. Mules, she thought, were the funniest. When the mules came down the mountain, the Mounties would strip them of their harness and turn them loose. Promptly they would lie down and roll and roll and roll.

They were strange, too, when it came to packing them. No one could pack them until their blinders were put on. A blinder was a piece of leather about four inches wide, with a small strap running back of the ears to hold it in place. Once this was adjusted, the driver found no difficulty in harnessing or packing. Without the blinder the mule would kick furiously at anyone that came near him.

“They’re kickers and rollers,” said Hawkins. “They don’t like being handled by any stranger.”

But, as Sue went among them while they were being packed, she only found them sad, quiet animals with long, foolish ears.

“What are you thinking about?” Sue asked her father one afternoon. But he didn’t answer. He was watching a long string of pack mules slowly climbing the Pass. They looked like flies on a wall. He turned to her mother.

“Your brother Dennis was right,” he said. “This is a preposterous thing to do. I’ve no right to take you and Sue on so long and heavy a march. How would you like to take Sue back to Vancouver to spend the winter there?”

Sue’s mother looked at him. “You know I wouldn’t like it at all, Jimmy,” she said. “We’re going with you.”

“But look, my dear, at the height of that mountain. It’s too much for any woman, much less for a child like Sue.”

“I’m strong,” Sue protested, “and if I’ve come this far—I can go the rest of the way.”

But her father shook his head. “Have you noticed how tired the men are when they come down the Pass, Aileen?” he asked.

Sue’s mother nodded. “Yes,” she said, “but they’ve been both up and down. We will only be going up.”

Michael and Major Bell joined them. To Sue’s astonishment, they agreed with her father. They felt it was too heavy a trip and that Mrs. Winston and Sue should go back to Vancouver.

“What does Sue think about it?” asked Michael.

“I don’t want to go back,” said Sue. “I want to see what’s on the other side of that mountain.”

“So do I,” said her mother, “but I had no idea it was going to be like this.”

“You wouldn’t turn back now, Mummy,” Sue cried.

Michael drew her away from the others. “Your father is not really worried or concerned about your mother, Sue,” he said. “He’s worried about you. You remember I’ve always felt you could make the trip.” Sue nodded. “Well, that was before I saw Chilkoot. Why, Sue, that mountain frightens me. As I look at it, I wonder whether I can make it myself, and your legs aren’t as strong or as long as mine.”

Whatever could be coming, Sue wondered. Here was Michael, her very best friend, doubting her. “And, Sue,” Michael continued, “after you’ve climbed that mountain, it’s only the beginning. It is six hundred miles from Chilkoot to Dawson City. The responsibility of taking you is greater than we had any idea of. Mrs. McGonigle is going to Vancouver on the next boat. She could take you back with her.”

Sue shook her head. “I don’t want to go to Vancouver,” she said stubbornly. “I want to go to the Yukon and find a gold mine.”

“Sue, you wouldn’t do anything that would bring criticism on the Force, would you?” asked Michael.

“Never,” said Sue, firmly.

“Well, if you take this trip and are not able to go every inch of the way without holding up the party, you would bring criticism on the Force.”

That sounded perfectly dreadful to Sue. “I can do it,” she said, trying not to let the lump in her throat get any larger. “I got my red coat, I got Joe Labiche. I can go all the way without one speck of trouble.”

Michael sighed. “I’d hate to see you turned back, Sue, but understand this. On the trail we move together. No one stops for another. If you can’t keep up, you’re left behind. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Michael,” said Sue, “but nobody will have to stop for me.”

It was still dark when reveille sounded the next morning. There was a breathless sort of feeling in the camp, and after breakfast the tents were struck, packs adjusted, and animals brought into line. Sue tied Minnie-Pooh-Pooh to her belt with an old shoestring and, putting the leash on Fieldy, joined the slowly moving pack train with her father and mother.

At first it wasn’t bad. The air was cool and the first rays of the sun brought out a rainbow stretching across the valley. Sue remembered Mrs. Schofield telling her once that whoever reached the end of the rainbow would find a pot of gold. “Perhaps it’ll be me,” Sue thought, as she followed her father’s steps.

There were queer sounds on the trail, quite unlike any she had heard before, the scrunch of feet on shale and gravel, the cough of a mule, a driver’s voice calling out ahead, the rush of a little spring. Now and then fog would drift by until they could hardly see the trail.

Sue shivered. Michael’s words came back to her. “No one stops for another. If you can’t keep up, you’re left behind.”

“I mustn’t be left behind,” she thought. “I must keep on going.”

The sun rose. The fog drifted away. The trail grew steeper. Once she looked up. The mountain seemed to be falling over on them. There was snow on the trail now—light, powdery snow that was hard to walk in; deep snow on either side. And still they climbed. Sue thought her legs would break in two. Her back was aching, her ankles hurt, her breath came in gasps.

“Keep on going,” she said to herself. “Keep on going. ... Keep on going.”

There was a sudden jerk of the leash on her arm. Fieldy ran between her legs. In a moment she was on her back and rolling off the path, down the side of the mountain. There were sharp cries above her. She grabbed at the snow and clutched at bits of jagged rock, and finally came to rest against a little hummock. Above her she could see the long line still moving forward to the top. Faces were turned toward her but the line moved steadily upward.

She didn’t see the tall figure in uniform climbing down to her, but Michael’s words came back. “If you can’t keep up, you’re left behind.”

“Keep on going,” she said to herself, and scrambled to her feet. “Keep on going.” She was afraid she was going to scream, she was so frightened that she might be sent back with Mrs. McGonigle. “Keep on going,” she gasped. “Keep on going.” She didn’t know where Fieldy was, she didn’t know where she was. She only knew that she must join that long, black line again before it reached the top.

“Steady, Sue,” Michael’s voice came to her. “Steady is the word.” He put his hand in the middle of her back. “Keep on going,” he said.

Sue thought her legs would crumple up, but Michael’s hand was a great help, and soon she joined the party again. Hawkins gave them both a hand over the snowy edge of the trail.

“You’re all right?” he asked. Sue couldn’t even speak. She couldn’t even smile. She could only keep on going.

The trail grew steeper. The party rested every five minutes now, and while they rested, no one spoke. They only gasped for breath.

“Keep on going.”

Scrabbling, pushing, always climbing higher, they moved slowly upward. At last Sue heard a voice, far off. It sounded like Major Bell’s.

“Well done, Susannah,” it said. “You’re at the top of Chilkoot Pass.”