A Woman who went to Alaska

by May Kellogg Sullivan

"Yes, I'm ready to eat anything. Been caved in for two hours."

This young man, as well as the night foreman, was a cousin of Mr. A., both farmer boys, honest, kind and true. No oaths fell from their lips, and no language was used which their own mothers would ever blush to hear.

The second of these, the foreman, was dressed also in great rubber boots, dark blue sweater, and broad-brimmed felt hat, with a quick eye and ear for all around him, though he was a man of few words, which he weighed well before using. His hip pocket always contained a loaded revolver, and he was obliged to sleep days after being on duty nights.

To eyes so unaccustomed as ours to the sight, how strange it all looked at midnight. From the big tent door which faced south and towards Nome City we could see the blue waters of Behring Sea away in the distance. Great ships lying there at anchor, lately arrived from the outside world or just about to leave, laden with treasure, at this long range looked like mere dots on the horizon. Between them and us there straggled over the beach in a westerly direction, a confused group of objects we well knew to be the famous and fast growing camp on the yellow sands. To our right, as well as our left, rolled the softly undulating hills, glowing in tender tints of purples and greys, or, if the moon hung low above our heads, there were warmer and lighter shades which were doubly entrancing.

Accompanying the low moon twinkled the silver stars with their olden time coyness of expression. Little birds, not knowing when to sleep in the endless daylight, hopped among the dewy wild flowers of the tundra, calling to their mates or nestlings, twittering a song appropriate to the time and place because entirely unfamiliar.

No other sound was to be heard except the picks of the miners at work in the stream. No word was spoken unless the foreman gave some order. Those sleeping in nearby tents must not be wakened, and besides the men at the shovels and picks did no loitering. There were the long sluice boxes to be filled with what was once the creek bed, from which the water was now turned in another direction to await the morning's cleanup of gold.

At that time the water would be conducted into the long boxes to wash away the dirt and gravel, leaving the heavier gold in the bottom. Either Mr. A. or his brother, with the foreman, attended to cleaning up the gold. When all the dirt and gravel, or rock, had been washed out of the sluices, a whisk broom was used to brush the gold into a corner of the box, a dustpan conveyed it to broad-mouthed gold pans close at hand, and these were carried into the kitchen.

Here the pans were placed upon the iron range, big mush spoons were utilized for stirring, and the precious metal was well dried before being weighed. As soon as possible afterward it was taken to the Bank of Nome. A tall, black horse was purchased for this purpose alone, and after a few such trips the intelligent creature most reluctantly approached the office where the gold was kept, having learned of the grievous burden he would have to bear. Sometimes he would snort, throw himself and pull back, and in every way show his unwillingness to proceed.

But no shirk was allowed here. The horse was led close to the steps of the office tent, and a gunny sack tied in the middle brought out by two men and laid over the back of the unwilling beast. A rain coat or blanket was flung over the sack, and the man at the halter started for town, leading the horse, which walked slowly and resignedly after being compelled to go.

A second man, well armed with revolvers like the first, always accompanied the pair, and when the three had returned to the claim another cleanup awaited them. Enormous sums of money were taken from this claim while we were there, averaging ten thousand to twenty thousand dollars per day. Seventy men worked for a time when the water was at its best, part of that number on the day force and part at night.