A year passed. In the great Koyukuk country the summer had come again and with it new life and activity in the way of prospectors and settlers. Craft of all shapes and sizes could be seen trying to force their way against the current of the great river. There were scows, houseboats, and small steamers. Families there were on flat boats which appeared to hold the earthly possessions of many. Tents were pitched on scows, and camp stoves with their accompanying smoke stacks peeping through the canvas did full duty. Mining tools formed a large and conspicuous part of the supplies of the incoming prospectors, for they were to exploit a certain rich section of country still in its virginity, and there were no trading posts near.
In the multitude there were men, women and children. There were outfits costing hundreds and even thousands of dollars, but all were full of eager expectancy; for were they not coming to one of the richest gold-bearing sections in Alaska? And had not their funds preceeded them for the purchase of claims soon now to be opened up by them?
It was small wonder that they were light hearted and worked early and late to get to the desired place. All carried descriptions of the famous creek and its surroundings, and each day eyes were strained in a westerly direction in the hope of catching a first glimpse of the promised land.
They had come from the Nome country, and a dozen different states besides; the Pacific coast being largely represented. They were there by scores from farms, from shops, from colleges, and from the great cities, and all were filled with highest anticipations.
They were looking for the creek called Midas.
They found it.
Dunbar and Gibbs were not there, but the granite mountains were. Many of the first prospectors to ascend the creek left their outfits and poled even farther in small boats. Many miles they toiled between banks so close and around curves so sharp that there was small chance for turning a tiny craft; but on all sides it was the same.
Winding in and out between great boulders of granite which had in some tremendous upheaval of nature been tossed aloft like snowballs from the hands of a schoolboy, the waters of this creek struggled, icy and sullen.
A tall and distinguished looking gentleman sat in the stern of a boat while his men laboriously poled. He was from London. He had outfitted a party of men in Nome many months before, and had come to find his gold claims.