As they were only twenty some odd miles from Fort Yukon these youngsters started out to walk there, or “hoof it” as Bill so inelegantly expressed it. They had not gone more than a couple of miles when they came upon—no, it couldn’t be, and yet there it was—their raft beached on the shore and on it there still remained three of the moosehide sacks of gold.
As Jack had often told Bill conditions are largely a matter of mind and truly it seemed so. For see you now, when they first stumbled on the pit of gold in Carscadden’s cabin they were not nearly as elated as one would have thought they’d be. Then when they lost the sled load of gold, though they were still millionaires, they were as sore at heart and mad at each other as they could be. When they lost all of their treasure and were dead-broke they laughed, and now having recovered three sacks of it they simply went wild with joy. Can you beat it?
It was a remarkable trio of youngsters that landed from their raft at Fort Yukon on that never-to-be-forgotten day in July. At any rate so said the inhabitants of that burg. Hoboes couldn’t have looked more disreputable. And the huskies were all there too, mean, lean and dog dirty.
The crowd at the landing that gathered round this motley little group scarce knew what to make of it, they felt so sorry for these woe-be-gone “kids.” But when they saw Bill take two moosehide sacks filled with something that was tremendously heavy under his arms and Jack take another and third one on his shoulder, the half-breed girl trudging along between them and their teams of huskies sticking as close to them as they could get without being stepped on, their mute sorrow changed to open expressions of surprise. Here was something to talk about to the end of time.
“Moosehide sacks filled with gold! by jimminy!” blurted out an old timer.
“An’ them kids found it where we couldn’t,” exclaimed another bitterly.
And so on, and so on.
They went over to the Crystal Hotel and while Bill stood guard over what was left of their treasure, Jack took Eileen across the street to the New York Emporium and there they outfitted themselves and Bill for the trip down to St. Michaels. When they next appeared in public there had been a great transformation for Eileen was a brand new girl and Jack and Bill were almost themselves again.
Eileen, as pretty as ever an Irish lass and an Indian maid blended into one could be, had her hair done up, wore a blue traveling dress, a sailor hat and, cross my criss cross, she had on stockings and shoes, which latter, let it be whispered, she would willingly have traded for a pair of old moccasins.
The boys were clean, well groomed and had their hair cut. They wore real store clothes—all wool suits that looked as if the price tag on them had been marked up to $7.65 from $5.67. When they walked their shoes squeaked at every step like a duck having its neck wrung. They were rich, genial and willing to talk on any subject they didn’t know anything about, but of the moosehide sacks filled with gold, they said never a word.