In a little three-room cabin in Nome,
a middle-aged woman, wearing glasses, knitted a gray
woollen sock for her boy, as she called him.
“Yes”, she said musingly,
“my husband and I came here during the rush of
1900. My son, Leroy, had come the year before
to pave the way for us, as he called it, and this
he tried his best to do. He staked some gold
claims and a town lot, and put up a one-room cabin,
building on to the latter after we arrived. His
idea was to get his father and me away from the farm
(which he hated) and start us in mining in Alaska,
he being exceedingly enthusiastic on this subject
and positive that we would enjoy it as well as he
did.”
At the conclusion of this introduction
to the story the woman laid down her knitting and
pushed her glasses up to the top of her head.
Then with an amused expression about the corners of
her mouth, she said:
“The story of all the actual
mining that Pa Morrison and I ever did is not a long
one, but it is one he would much rather I did not often
relate. However, as you wish to hear it, and he
is too busy at his book-keeping in the next room to
know what is going on, I will tell you how we began
mining in Alaska.
“We had landed safely upon the
beach with all our necessary belongings, as well as
feather-beds and pillows, also fruit-cake and other
good things for Christmas. My son had met us
with open arms and shown us with much pleasure to
his tiny cabin on a nearby street. To this place
all our boxes were in due time hauled by dog-team,
and a big tent set up temporarily alongside the cabin.
“While unpacking articles to
be immediately used we had not forgotten our mining
tools, gold pan, picks and shovels, as well as rubber
boots, and all were spread out in fine array in the
sunshine beside the tent.
“Much of our clothing had been
especially selected with a view to our new occupation,
and there were dozens of new blue and brown denim
jumpers and overalls, bandana handkerchiefs, woollen
socks and shirts for Pa, as well as short, warm dresses
and stout aprons for me.
“To enumerate all would take
too long. Enough to say that in our anxiety to
get to work at the real object of our coming, we rushed
the adjustment of affairs in our camp through with
all speed, and two days after landing at Nome, Pa
and I started out to do some mining on our own hook
upon our first gold claim.”
Here the woman paused to take breath,
and picking up her knitting to inspect it for a moment,
seemed somewhat reluctant to proceed.
“Was the claim far from town?”
some one asked, in order to bring her back to her
narrative, and at the same time not to appear too anxious.
“Oh, no,” she said, brightening
considerably. “Leroy is always such a good
and thoughtful fellow, and he had selected this cabin
for us near the west end of town, close to the cemetery,
on the tundra. It was only a short walk for us,
he said, and the ground must, undoubtedly, be rich,
as much gold had been taken out of the beach-diggings
next the tundra where our claim was located.
“It was reported that the beach
contained from one to three pay streaks before a depth
of three feet was reached; that nuggets worth as much
as twenty dollars were found in the beach-diggings,
and the tundra was good pay dirt from the ‘grass
roots down’.
“Well, my husband and I started
for the claim, as I said we started Snake
River bridge, Pa paying his ten cents toll, while I
went across free as was the custom that summer, and
we trudged down the road on the sandspit to the cemetery.
Dressed in his fresh miner’s rig, (that was an
accidental pun) taken so lately from our big packing
boxes, Pa marched with all the dignity a man of his
height and thinness can assume, with a gold pan under
one arm, and a shiny pick and shovel upon his shoulder.
I followed close behind.”
At this stage of the story Mrs. Morrison
cast a quick glance at the door of the adjoining room
where her husband was writing. Then opening a
table drawer close at hand, she took out two kodak
views and handed them to her listeners.
“He must not know where I keep
these pictures or he would burn them as sure as fate;
I have dubbed them ’before and after’.”
They examined the views she handed
them. A stout, resolute looking woman with a
pleased expectant countenance, short dress, huge basket
on right arm. The man beside her holding his
broad brimmed miner’s hat in his hands, his
unused gold pan, pick and shovel, at his feet.
For a background a tent, a bit of the river, and bridge.
In the “After” picture
the scene was changed. Dejection was depicted
on both faces. Their clothing was soiled and
their implements had seen usage, but were now flung
upon the ground in disorder.
“A friend took these snap-shots
of us,” she explained, returning the photos
to their places, “and Leroy likes to preserve
them ‘just for fun’ he says.
“To go back to my story, we
made our way along as best we could by inquiring (for
Leroy had been obliged to go to the creeks to attend
to some work in progress; so could not go with us;
in fact, he did not know of our intention of sallying
out upon the tundra), and finally arrived at the cemetery.
We spent little time in looking at the few rude head-boards
and scattered mounds of those quiet sleepers by the
sea, but bestowed more attention upon the beach-miners
on our left. Here, at the edge of the water,
and even standing in the surf, were many men at work,
beach-mining with Long-Toms’ or other contrivances,
and all wore high-topped rubber boots.
“Looking about for the claim
in which we were so much interested, we finally found
the corner stakes, and the St. Charles cream can in
which the location notice had been placed by Leroy
a few months before.
“Then Pa wanted me to read the
paper to him, which I did, after seating myself on
a big hummock of tundra and properly adjusting my spectacles.
“The paper ran thus: ’We,
the undersigned citizens of the United States, have
discovered placer gold in the ground hereinafter described,
and hereby claim for placer-mining purposes twenty
acres on the tundra west of Nome and 100 feet north
of the cemetery.’ Then followed the distance
between stakes, the name of the witness, our own names,
and that of Leroy as our agent, the date of the location,
etc.
“By this time Mr. Morrison was
hungry. So after replacing the location notice
on the initial stake under the old cream can, just
as we found it, we lunched heartily on ham sandwiches,
doughnuts, pie and cheese. A quart bottle of
coffee had added much to the weight of the basket on
the way.
“We now turned our attention
to the tundra. Of what was it composed? How
deep was it? Was it easily handled? Would
it burn? Was it wet? And how large an extent
of country, or rather territory, did it cover.
These were only a few of the questions that Pa Morrison
now flung at me in quick succession, leaning as he
did meanwhile on the handle of the shovel.
“I grew impatient.
“’I really cannot answer
your questions, Pa Morrison, and you know it; but
as to the extent of the tundra I think I can safely
say that it covers the whole of this gold claim and
a good deal more besides, for I can see as far as
the hills yonder without my glasses that it all looks
alike,’ and I tugged with might and main at some
small trailing vines imbedded in the deep mosses.
“’As to the depth of this
tundra you have the shovel in your hands and can soon
investigate if you see fit to do so’, I continued
as Pa still stood looking dubiously about him without
so much as making a jab with his shovel.
“’Then there is the composition
of this tundra to be studied. If I understood
the flora of Alaska I would give you the desired information
quick, but I don’t, and I am too old to begin
to study it now. I believe, however, that I can
tell a gold nugget when I see it, and if you will
bestir yourself and turn up a few, I will agree to
analyze them to your heart’s content,’
giving him what was meant to be a conciliatory smile
which was entirely lost because he never looked my
way.
“With that he set to work.
Down into the deep moss and tangled vines of the tundra
he plunged that new and shining shovel with force enough
to jar the teeth out of his head. This was kept
up for fully ten minutes, while I rummaged around
among the hummocks for the lovely many colored mosses,
and mentally tried to count the different kinds of
tiny plants, numbers of which were blossoming in artistic
colors and profusion under our feet.
“‘Mary.’
“‘Yes, Pa.’
“’Do you think a hole
four feet square instead of six would be big enough?’
“‘O, yes, certainly.
Anything, if it is only one foot square,’ said
I, sarcastically, for I had a consuming anxiety to
get down to those nuggets which lay ‘just at
the grass roots’ and Pa was so awfully slow.
“We had talked this matter over
the day before, and had decided upon a hole six feet
square.
“‘If I were in your place,
Mary, I wouldn’t be too smart,’ said he
testily, and then rested again upon the shovel handle.
His face was flushed and heated. He breathed
hard. Dead silence for a long minute.
“‘I wish I’d brought the axe,’
said he.
“‘What for?’
“‘To cut these beastly vines and roots
with.’
“‘Dear me! Shall I go home and fetch
it?’
“‘No, you needn’t’,
crossly. ’By the time you got here with
it you would have to go right back to get supper.
It is half past one o’clock now, and I have
been at work an hour.’
“‘But you were going to
work all day, weren’t you?’ He had scarcely
made an impression on that tundra, and not a single
nugget had we seen.
“With that he planted a few
more good, hard jabs into the thicket of moss, vines
and leaves, trying to get the hole four feet square
anyway, after my rather uncalled for taunt about its
size.
“In the meanwhile I was not
wasting my time. I was using the pick upon a
cluster of bunch grass hummocks, wishing to fill the
gold pan with dirt from underneath that I might wash
it out and see if it contained ‘colors’.
“Somehow I felt more subdued
like, perhaps because I was growing tired; but Pa
seemed to be affected differently. I could hear
him grumbling to himself, and that was a bad sign.
By and by his shovel struck something hard. He
uttered an oath.
“‘Pa Morrison!’
I exclaimed, ’Ain’t you ashamed of yourself?
To think of your swearing like that. It’s
awful! Give me that shovel instantly.’
“‘I won’t!’
“‘Give me that shovel,
I say,’ for we were both church members and had
been for many years, and I was inexpressibly shocked
at his profanity, and wished to remove the cause.
“’Shut your head, Mary
Morrison! Whose doing this mining, will you tell
me?’
“‘O, of course you are,
but then I wanted to help you if I could,’ trying
to speak quietly and coming close enough to take the
instrument of dispute from his hand if he would let
me.
“No reply.
“‘What did you strike, Pa, that made the
shovel ring just now?’
“‘Shovel! ring! It
was ice! bloomin’, blasted, infernal ice, I tell
you,’ he shouted in a rage, standing in black
muck almost to his knees, with the same material bespattered
over him from head to foot. Indeed his red and
perspiring face showed a couple of great, black smirches
with which he had unknowingly beautified himself.
“He was fairly sizzling with
wrath. ’Git down here yourself, and go to
work, and see how you like it,’ he shouted excitedly,
forgetting his English and everything but that we
had encountered an astonishingly hard proposition,
and it had gotten the best of us. Like an old
clock he was wound up and could not stop.
“‘No gold, no nuggets,
no grass roots even; nothing but muck and ice!’
and another mouthful of big, strong words gurgled from
that man’s lips like water from an uncorked
jug.
“‘Don’t, Mr. Morrison,
don’t do that,’ said I, in a voice cold
as the ice in that four foot hole, ’you may
be heard by some one who will report you to the church
trustees, and then you will be expelled. At your
age it would be a positive disgrace.’
“‘Shut your mouth, I tell
you,’ he yelled, ’I ain’t no baby!
I know what I’m doing, and I know what I want
to do, but it ain’t mining on this confounded
tundra!’
“At this I clapped my hands
over my ears to shut out such language, but he kept
on just the same.
“’Did we lease our farm
for a whole year with all the machinery and stock,
pack up our household furniture and come three thousand
miles over this water like the blooming old idiots
we are, to dig in a muckhole full of ice? Did
we tell our banker that he should have the very first
gold we took out of the ground to pay the two hundred
dollar mortgage on our town lots? Does this look
much like lifting mortgages from anything?’
“As I made no reply he insisted, ‘Does
it, I say?’
“‘No, Pa Morrison, it
doesn’t,’ I admitted, ’but wait a
minute and let me talk.’
“‘Well, ain’t you talking now?’
he rejoined irritably.
“Without noticing his exasperating words or
tone I said calmly:
“’I remember hearing Leroy
say when we first arrived that the tundra is a hard
and peculiar proposition. Many have failed at
mining it, but to those who go to work at it in the
right way, at the proper time it will prove a bonanza.
Now, probably you and I have not gone at it properly.’
“A surly silence ensued, during
which Pa worked slowly, with anything but a good grace.
Leroy was right. The tundra was a hard and peculiar
proposition. Nothing like it had we ever seen
before. For miles on three sides of us it spread
itself like a carpet of green, dotted often with tiny
pools of clear water, shining like glass in the June
sunshine. Miles away to the northward rolled
the smooth-topped hills, only one of them bearing
a small, rocky crest; while further away, and forming
a background to these, lay the snow-tipped Sawtooth.”
To the south of us and close at hand
spread the wonderful waters upon whose broad and beautiful
bosom we had so lately sailed, and whose gently sweeping
surf was today making sweet music among the sands and
pebbles on the beach.
“Many ships lay at anchor beyond.
However, it was neither the scenery, nor the water,
nor the ships that we were now called upon to consider;
but a layer of ice, the depth of which we did not know,
lying between us and the much desired golden nuggets.
The ground lay level and open to the sun, with nothing
to prevent its thawing except this peculiar blanket
of tundra mosses, vines, and plants, which formed an
insulator as perfect as if made to order. It
was now the middle of June. There was no doubt
but that the ice would remain as it was all summer.
“Giant powder might possibly
be used, but it was dangerous and expensive.
I would never allow Father to handle the stuff.
Better let it all go forever. Probably Pa was
right about our being foolish to come here. We
could go home again as many people were doing.
There lay the steamers making preparations to sail;
but how our friends at home would laugh at us!
“On the other hand was it not
too soon to pronounce on this tundra, and really no
fair trial of the ground or mining? Then, too,
our son probably had his own plans for us which must
be more intelligent ones, for had he not had some
experience and a year’s residence in this place?
“There were the creek claims,
besides. They must surely be very different and
easier to work.
“Reasoning thus I had wandered
away a short distance by myself in order to let Pa’s
temper cool, and had forgotten the panning I had started
out to do.
“I now returned. Taking
up the gold pan I filled it with dirt and muck from
the four foot hole taken directly above the objectionable
ice, and though I found its weight almost more than
I could carry, and Pa did not offer to help me in
the least, I carried it to a small pool of water at
no great distance and began to pan it.
“How heavy it was to be sure.
There might be gold in it yet. I would see presently.
I had watched men panning on the beach that morning
and I believed I could do it as it appeared very easy.
“Immersing the pan in the water,
after pinning my skirts carefully higher, I began
the rotary motion so necessary to separate the gold
from the sand and dirt. A moment of this employment
and I was breathing heavily and felt very warm.
I put the pan down and flung off my sun-bonnet, pulling
my sleeves a notch higher before continuing. Again
the rotary movement with various dips of the edge of
the big pan to let the waste material pass away.
Small pebbles showed themselves and had to be picked
out, the heavier material sinking in the natural order
of things, to the bottom.
“I was watching the outcome
with great interest, though panting for breath and
covered with perspiration. Suddenly the soft earth
under my right foot gave way, and I found myself,
gold pan and all, in the mud and water up to my knees.
“I thought of Pa and his recent
profanity, but I shut my teeth resolutely together,
wringing out the edges of my petticoats and pulling
my rubber boot tops still higher.
“Fishing for the gold pan I
brought it to light. Of course its contents were
lost, my hands and clothes were muddied and my efforts
wasted; but I would not give it up yet.
“Another pan of the same material
was brought and a second trial was made, with success
this time as the pan was not filled so full.
“Finally, after shaking, twisting,
dipping, picking out pebbles, washing off sand, and
resting a moment at intervals, it was finished.
“There was gold in the pan.
“A few small ‘colors’,
bright and shining as if made so by much scouring
of beach sand, appeared in the bottom of the gold pan
to gladden my longing eyes, and I hastened to show
them to Pa Morrison, whose head and shoulders were
still visible in that four foot hole.
“‘Humph!’ said he,
in much disgust, as I exhibited the result of my labors.
‘Is that all?’
“‘Why, yes.’
“‘And no nuggets?’
“‘No nuggets.’
“At that he flung the pick he had been using
in the ice upon the ground.
“‘I’m going home’, he said
shortly.
“Now I hardly knew whether he
intended to say he was going to the United States,
or to the little cabin and tent on Front Street, but
rather than run the risk of exploding another bomb
of wrath like the last one by asking a question, I
kept quiet and made preparations to go back to our
tent.
“On the beach we washed our
hands and smoothed our clothing as best we could;
but the frown which had lodged on Pa’s forehead
remained.
“That evening when Leroy had
returned from his work and we had eaten our eight
o’clock supper with the sun still shining very
brightly upon the tent, the boy lighted his pipe and
asked for the story of the day’s doings.
“I then gave it from the beginning.
When I reached Pa’s discovery of the ice in
the prospect hole on the tundra, Leroy laughed heartily.
Then seeing the aggrieved look on his father’s
face, and, I suppose, a bothered one on my own, he
became more serious, and drawing closer, took my hand
in both of his.
“‘I never intended you
to begin mining in that way, Mother,’ he said,
simply, in a low voice. ’I want you here
to help me keep house, to mend my clothes, to bake
bread and fry griddle cakes, and do the many little
things for Father and me that only you can do.
In this way I can keep my health and give all my time
to my mining.’
“‘I want you, Father,’
he continued, laying his hand affectionately on his
pa’s knee, ’to do my book-keeping, reckoning
the time and wages of my men at work on the claims.
Accounts of assessment work on twenty claims, besides
new prospecting in different localities, will give
you something to do after cutting the kindling for
Mother; and neither of you need feel that you are
useless nor idle. Part of these gold claims are
yours, and in your own names, and you can both make
short ‘mushing’ trips of inspection over
the country when you like; though the new railroad
up Anvil will be finished in a few weeks, and then
you can ride. Under no consideration must either
of you think for one moment of buying steamer tickets
back to the States inside of a year. At the end
of that time we will be taking out so much gold that
you will not wish to leave, I assure you. I am
almost thirty years old now, Mother, and you and Father
are all I have,’ he said softly, pressing my
hand.
“Then I kissed his forehead
and promised to stay, and I have never been sorry.
Father said he would try it a year, and then see about
staying longer, and here we are still in Nome after
four years without once going ‘outside’.
“And you like it here?” they asked.
“Very much indeed, because our
ground is turning out finely, and Leroy is so good
to us.
“About that tundra claim, however,
nothing was ever done. Pa could never be induced
to step his foot upon it again, and being so determined
in the matter, we just let it drop.
“There it is yet, St. Charles
cream can, stakes, and all; but the four foot hole,
with its icy foundations, is nowhere to be seen, having
been long ago levelled by wind and weather.”