The following morning there was more discussion and more enthusiasm. In the end it was settled that Sandy, Frank, and I should go up, taking two sleds, with Patch and their two dogs, who were trained, to help in hauling them. As they knew the Canadian mining laws quite thoroughly, which we did not, they would help me to mark out our claim properly, then they would stake out one for themselves—for, as Bain said, "The moment it is known in Dawson what you have found up there, there'll be such a crowd o' folk rush up that it'll be better to hae freends alongside ye than strangers."
This being quite true, we were well pleased.
We also arranged to go on up to May's claim, and mark that out properly too. We laid some other plans, which will be explained later on.
The trail up the Klondyke,—which May and I had not used when we came down, because I fancied it was a bear-path,—it appeared, was the way by which all the miners went up the river in winter. It led up to the head, where for years a little mining had been going on. During the time we had been at Bain's several parties had come down it. Their reports had not been very favourable. I had questioned some of them closely, being anxious to discover if any of them had gone up what I called Meade's Creek; but so far as I could make out, no one had. They described some tracks they saw going up at one place though, which seemed to me to be ours, and they rather jeered at the idea of any one having been foolish enough to go there prospecting, as they declared, as all did then, that no gold, to pay grub even, was to be had, except clear up at the head of the main Thronda stream. How little they knew; and how differently they talk about it now!
We were off at once. The trail we found fairly good up to where our boat was cached. Hereabouts the ice was disappearing from the stream. We saw we could easily get her out and afloat, which was satisfactory. We camped there that night.
Turning up Meade's Creek in the morning, it was all but free of ice; we found the way very bad beside it. The snow was gone in some places, but having light loads, we pushed on slowly but surely.
We were, however, very much disgusted to notice the tracks of others having gone up rather recently. Had they followed May's and mine, we wondered? Had they come to our claim, and found our stores and gold? I was quite anxious, as you may guess.
Two persons had gone up: one wore moccasins, and drew a sled; the other wore boots—we saw the heel marks.
This brought to my mind instantly the two May and I had seen when we were coming down. I was sure they were the same men's tracks.
Sandy knew them, too. He said they were all right, and decent fellows—the moccasins were worn by an old miner he called White-eyed Williams, and the boots by an Englishman who had come up during winter, who foolishly, he thought, stuck to knee-high boots. His name, he said, was Coney.