The Trail of a Sourdough. May Kellogg Sullivan
for the claim, as I said—we started Snake River bridge, Pa paying his ten cents toll, while I went across free as was the custom that summer, and we trudged down the road on the sandspit to the cemetery. Dressed in his fresh miner's rig, (that was an accidental pun) taken so lately from our big packing boxes, Pa marched with all the dignity a man of his height and thinness can assume, with a gold pan under one arm, and a shiny pick and shovel upon his shoulder. I followed close behind."
At this stage of the story Mrs. Morrison cast a quick glance at the door of the adjoining room where her husband was writing. Then opening a table drawer close at hand, she took out two kodak views and handed them to her listeners.
"He must not know where I keep these pictures or he would burn them as sure as fate; I have dubbed them 'before and after'."
They examined the views she handed them. A stout, resolute looking woman with a pleased expectant countenance, short dress, huge basket on right arm. The man beside her holding his broad brimmed miner's hat in his hands, his unused gold pan, pick and shovel, at his feet. For a background a tent, a bit of the river, and bridge.
In the "After" picture the scene was changed. Dejection was depicted on both faces. Their clothing was soiled and their implements had seen usage, but were now flung upon the ground in disorder.
"A friend took these snap-shots of us," she explained, returning the photos to their places, "and Leroy likes to preserve them 'just for fun' he says.
"To go back to my story, we made our way along as best we could by inquiring (for Leroy had been obliged to go to the creeks to attend to some work in progress; so could not go with us; in fact, he did not know of our intention of sallying out upon the tundra), and finally arrived at the cemetery. We spent little time in looking at the few rude head-boards and scattered mounds of those quiet sleepers by the sea, but bestowed more attention upon the beach-miners on our left. Here, at the edge of the water, and even standing in the surf, were many men at work, beach-mining with Long-Toms' or other contrivances, and all wore high-topped rubber boots.
"Looking about for the claim in which we were so much interested, we finally found the corner stakes, and the St. Charles cream can in which the location notice had been placed by Leroy a few months before.
"Then Pa wanted me to read the paper to him, which I did, after seating myself on a big hummock of tundra and properly adjusting my spectacles.
"The paper ran thus: 'We, the undersigned citizens of the United States, have discovered placer gold in the ground hereinafter described, and hereby claim for placer-mining purposes twenty acres on the tundra west of Nome and 100 feet north of the cemetery.' Then followed the distance between stakes, the name of the witness, our own names, and that of Leroy as our agent, the date of the location, etc.
"By this time Mr. Morrison was hungry. So after replacing the location notice on the initial stake under the old cream can, just as we found it, we lunched heartily on ham sandwiches, doughnuts, pie and cheese. A quart bottle of coffee had added much to the weight of the basket on the way.
"We now turned our attention to the tundra. Of what was it composed? How deep was it? Was it easily handled? Would it burn? Was it wet? And how large an extent of country, or rather territory, did it cover. These were only a few of the questions that Pa Morrison now flung at me in quick succession, leaning as he did meanwhile on the handle of the shovel.
"I grew impatient.
"'I really cannot answer your questions, Pa Morrison, and you know it; but as to the extent of the tundra I think I can safely say that it covers the whole of this gold claim and a good deal more besides, for I can see as far as the hills yonder without my glasses that it all looks alike,' and I tugged with might and main at some small trailing vines imbedded in the deep mosses.
"'As to the depth of this tundra you have the shovel in your hands and can soon investigate if you see fit to do so', I continued as Pa still stood looking dubiously about him without so much as making a jab with his shovel.
"'Then there is the composition of this tundra to be studied. If I understood the flora of Alaska I would give you the desired information quick, but I don't, and I am too old to begin to study it now. I believe, however, that I can tell a gold nugget when I see it, and if you will bestir yourself and turn up a few, I will agree to analyze them to your heart's content,' giving him what was meant to be a conciliatory smile which was entirely lost because he never looked my way.
"With that he set to work. Down into the deep moss and tangled vines of the tundra he plunged that new and shining shovel with force enough to jar the teeth out of his head. This was kept up for fully ten minutes, while I rummaged around among the hummocks for the lovely many colored mosses, and mentally tried to count the different kinds of tiny plants, numbers of which were blossoming in artistic colors and profusion under our feet.
"'Mary.'
"'Yes, Pa.'
"'Do you think a hole four feet square instead of six would be big enough?'
"'O, yes, certainly. Anything, if it is only one foot square,' said I, sarcastically, for I had a consuming anxiety to get down to those nuggets which lay 'just at the grass roots' and Pa was so awfully slow.
"We had talked this matter over the day before, and had decided upon a hole six feet square.
"'If I were in your place, Mary, I wouldn't be too smart,' said he testily, and then rested again upon the shovel handle. His face was flushed and heated. He breathed hard. Dead silence for a long minute.
"'I wish I'd brought the axe,' said he.
"'What for?'
"'To cut these beastly vines and roots with.'
"'Dear me! Shall I go home and fetch it?'
"'No, you needn't', crossly. 'By the time you got here with it you would have to go right back to get supper. It is half past one o'clock now, and I have been at work an hour.'
"'But you were going to work all day, weren't you?' He had scarcely made an impression on that tundra, and not a single nugget had we seen.
"With that he planted a few more good, hard jabs into the thicket of moss, vines and leaves, trying to get the hole four feet square anyway, after my rather uncalled for taunt about its size.
"In the meanwhile I was not wasting my time. I was using the pick upon a cluster of bunch grass hummocks, wishing to fill the gold pan with dirt from underneath that I might wash it out and see if it contained 'colors'.
"Somehow I felt more subdued like, perhaps because I was growing tired; but Pa seemed to be affected differently. I could hear him grumbling to himself, and that was a bad sign. By and by his shovel struck something hard. He uttered an oath.
"'Pa Morrison!' I exclaimed, 'Ain't you ashamed of yourself? To think of your swearing like that. It's awful! Give me that shovel instantly.'
"'I won't!'
"'Give me that shovel, I say,' for we were both church members and had been for many years, and I was inexpressibly shocked at his profanity, and wished to remove the cause.
"'Shut your head, Mary Morrison! Whose doing this mining, will you tell me?'
"'O, of course you are, but then I wanted to help you if I could,' trying to speak quietly and coming close enough to take the instrument of dispute from his hand if he would let me.
"No reply.
"'What did you strike, Pa, that made the shovel ring just now?'
"'Shovel!—ring!—It was ice! bloomin', blasted, infernal ice, I tell you,' he shouted in a rage, standing in black muck almost to his knees, with the same material bespattered over him from head to foot. Indeed his red and perspiring face showed a couple of great, black smirches with which he had unknowingly beautified himself.
"He was fairly sizzling with wrath. 'Git down here yourself, and go to work, and see how you like it,' he shouted excitedly, forgetting his English and everything but that we had encountered