A few cases of typhoid fever are reported, but none on this creek. We are all in good health. No one would doubt this last at meal time. The boys eat an immense amount of our monotonous grub and say their "grace" as thankfully as if it were a banquet. Little Brownie, the boy who was going to work eighteen hours a day if only he could "find the nuggets." comes dragging himself home at night completely tired out, sore feet and blistered hands. The work is pretty hard on the older men. Shaul, Wilson and Uncle Jimmy. But we have no hardships from other causes than voluntary hard work. Our foreman. Harry Reynolds, knows his business well, and we all like him.
Anvil City. Sept. 20.—We were frozen out on Buster Creek, and here we are in town again. Winter is upon us, the landscape is white and the glare is very painful. The ground is frozen hard, which makes walking much easier than through a foot of mud and ooze. We are living in our cabin on our city lot just back of the A. C. Company's big warehouse. We made the entire trip from No. 4 on Buster Creek in one day, and were just in time, for next morning a snowstorm began, lasting until yesterday. We made the trip down Nome River in five hours in our boats, and then around to Anvil City outside the surf, which luckily was not heavy. And how, cold it was! I was one of three to bring a boat around, and by the time we got here I was so stiff I could scarcely bend my limbs. Rubber boots and damp clothing inside. It would have been much worse had we waited a day longer. However, we are all well in spite of hardship, and are patiently (?) waiting for the "Penelope." We heard a rumor that a white schooner was wrecked a short time ago on the rocks near Port Clarence. It was thought to be the "Penelope." Alas, my dear collection! But if it were the "Penelope" we would have been informed by this time. Then we have heard that the "Penelope" has been chartered to go back up to Kotzebue again for freight, and to go over to Siberia to trade for dog-feed. But a person must make a rule to believe nothing he hears in this country or he would be worrying all the time.
This, for a boom town, beats anything we ever saw in the States. Thousands of people are now pouring in from Dawson to stay through the winter, and they say that this is a bigger place than ever Dawson was. Steamer loads of people and freight are coming in every day. The town is full of money. The town is incorporated, with mayor, councilmen and police force. Franchises have been let for electric lighting, sewerage, water works, and all modern improvements. Hundreds of houses are building, many large ones. Lumber is $150 per thousand.
I have a job for to-morrow in the mayor's office aligning a calligraph. Wages are $1 per hour. I could have all I could do for the winter, type-writing and doing mechanical drawing in the Nome City Attorney's office. But I wouldn't stay here for $300 per month. No, nor for anything. I hate the place. There's the toughest crowd of people, sporting Dawsonites, everyone ready to "do" everybody else. It is the liveliest, speediest, swiftest mining camp ever seen in Alaska. And what will it be next year? All sorts of sharks are making fortunes.
Sept. 27, 1899.—Heigh-o! The "Penelope" has just dropped anchor off Anvil City and we are in high glee. Higher glee than we ever experienced on the Kowak, for we are going home! Our hunt for gold is over. We shall take some passengers aboard for San Pedro. I shall go on ship at once and see how it fares with my precious birds. They are my gold. We shall start at high noon October 2d, and expect to make the trip in a month or six weeks. Depends upon the wind. Now for our good ship's yell:
"Penelope! Penelope! zip I boom! bah!
Going home from Kotzebue! rah! rah! rah!"
THE END.
Transcriber Note