"Out we trailed to the Cassiar, an', funny enough, though I'd only been bluffin' to Father about the strike there, we landed on the pay gravel the very day after French Pete had struck a pocket. He was a good prospector, was French Pete, an' knew more'n most, but he was timid like, an' glad to have us there. He could handle Indians—he was a half-breed himself—but he was that superstitious, he was afraid o' the dark, alone. He was religious, too, an' Father an' him got along together famous. We staked out a claim, right next to his, an', for a few weeks, cleaned up a good fifty dollars a day.
"Then, one fine mornin', a bunch o' redskins come down, friends o' French Pete. They palavered some, an', after a while, French Pete he comes over to us an' says:
"'We got three days to get out!'
"Father he put up an awful howl an' was for plugging the redskins full o' holes, pronto. But French Pete puts it to him that these Injuns was his friends, an' shootin' wouldn't go. There'd been some kind o' deal between this tribe an' the Chilkoots, an' every miner on the Divide knew more'n plenty about the Chilkoots. They'd tortured to death Georgie Holt, the first prospector that ever went over the Chilkoot Pass, an' more'n one miner that got into their country wasn't never heard of no more.
"So Father puts it up to French Pete where he's goin' next. French Pete is a good pardner, an' tells a queer tale, but he tells it straight. He allows there's gold on the islands off the coast an' shows the lay.
"Some years afore, so he says, Joe Juneau, an old-time Hudson Bay trapper, an' Dick Harris, one o' the forty-niners, had found color on Gold Creek, near the coast, an' had made a pile. Juneau went on prospectin', though he was rich, an', havin' a generous streak, grub-staked any man what asked him. That way he got a big share in the placers found on Silver Bow and doubled his pile. Some other prospectors what he'd grub-staked reported havin' found gold on the islands, but nothin' extraordinary. Harris, havin' a business head, stuck around Gold Creek (the present town of Juneau was formerly called Harrisburg) an' got rich a-plenty. Juneau an' Harris had more'n enough to look after, an' never got over to the islands.
"French Pete, he's an old friend of Juneau an' he knows about this island game. He reckons it'd be worth pannin'. There's sure-enough gold up thar to pay for the workin', an' there might be a chance for a big haul, seein' no one is prospectin' thar. He offers to show Father where the placers are supposed to be, if he's willin' to come along. Father likes to stick by his pardner an' agrees.
"From Cassiar we hoofed it back to Juneau—a long an' a hard trail—an', after buyin' a small sailboat an' grub enough for three months, we struck out for Douglas Island. French Pete handled that boat like a cowboy does a buckin' bronc. We was green wi' scare in that wild sea, full o' chunks o' ice clashin' all around, but the old trapper never turns a hair. Presently we landed on a beach which looked like it was a seal rookery, once, an' works our way to where a good-sized creek comes plungin' down to the sea.
"Juneau had it right. The sands along the creek were full o' color, but the dust was small an' it was slow pannin'. It was all we could do to make fourteen dollars a day in dust, workin' fourteen hours a day, maybe; poor pickin's for a spot costin' so much cash an' trouble to get to.
"French Pete, though, had plenty o' savvy. From the lie o' the rock, he reckoned this thin placer gold must ha' been washed out o' the little mountain what sticks up in one corner o' the island. He let his placer claim go for a while and prospected for ore. At last he found what he thought looked like the best spot. The ore was poor in color, but so soft an' rotten that it could be smashed into dust with a hammer, an' the gold—what little there was of it—separated out easy.