Certainly, if easy roads were made across the passes, if steamers were put upon the lakes, if ways were made for getting past the cañons and rapids, large quantities of stores could be taken in during three or four months of open water. But he stuck to it, that only a railway will do all that must be done, if this Canadian Yukon country is to be exploited as it deserved to be. Quartz reefs rich in gold were already known to exist. Copper had been found too—there appeared to be immense deposits of it. Coal existed also, and it is recognised that the supply of wood fuel for mining and domestic purposes will soon run short—a most important consideration, perhaps the most important of all. These reefs and copper and coal mines cannot be worked without heavy machinery, which cannot be handled or conveyed in by waggon or sleigh, neither can the products of these mines. A railway, and only a railway, could solve the problem.
Whether one will "pay" or not is quite another matter.
In California, Australia, and those parts of Canada in which gold has hitherto been found abundantly, causing a large influx of people, the result has been that many who have made much or little have remained there, settling on the land or going into business, and so permanently developing the country.
In the Yukon this can never be. Gold especially, and copper, and probably some other metals, are alone the product of the country. Land being absolutely unproductive, and the climate terrible, no one will make a permanent home there.
With such discussions, and much beside of purely local interest—such as how Bill the Butcher's claim was looking, and if Tom the Tinker had found any coarse gold in the hole he had last sunk, or what the chances were of Mississippi Sam and his partner the Baltimore Oriole finding good gold up at the creek-head where they had gone prospecting, when they may be expected back, and so forth,—with such topics of interest, I say, as these the time passed quickly.
The increased heat of the sun was perceptibly lessening the snow on the ranges, the creeks were rising, the ice had disappeared, or was piled on the banks, where it was thawing rapidly. There was a great change perceptible—a change which was a source of constant interest to all of us; and to May and me it was a very great relief to see the road gradually opening for us to get away.
During this time we had become pretty intimate with "Coney." I learnt his proper name, found him a very genial companion—one very like my poor lost Meade—and I liked him; so did we all.
He had been unfortunate, and had not found a payable claim until now; and even now, the one he and White-eyed Williams had marked above us, though it promised well, had yet to be proved. However, his hopes were high, and I could not help giving him every encouragement. Knowing I was going home to England, he was most anxious that I should take letters from him to his people—nay, that I should visit them; and I, arguing that if not all right, he would hardly have done this, concluded that he was a reliable man. Bain thought as I did, and it resulted that I, with May's entire accord, put all the affairs connected with our claims into their joint-hands—i.e., Bain's and Coney's—to manage for us.
Late in May there were many more evidences of spring. The nigger-grass had sprouted: I well remember May's delight with the first green blades I took her. A few days after, on bare patches amongst the snow, I found a few lovely flowers; we had no idea of their names, but spring had come, and we were charmed.
There was plenty of water now to wash with; there was plenty to wash the heaps of wash-dirt, and the results were good. I, being handy with tools, made them a cradle, or rocker, and some sluice-boxes.