Job. Go for’ard when the sloop’s nose was more often under than
not, and take in sail like a man. Went prospecting once, up
Teslin way, past Surprise Lake and the Little Yellow-Head. Grub
gave out, and we ate the dogs. Dogs gave out, and we ate
harnesses, moccasins, and furs. Never a whimper; never a pick-me-
up-and-carry-me. Before we went she said look out for grub, but
when it happened, never a I-told-you-so. ‘Never mind, Tommy,’
she’d say, day after day, that weak she could bare lift a snow-
shoe and her feet raw with the work. ‘Never mind. I’d sooner be
flat-bellied of hunger and be your woman, Tommy, than have a
potlach every day and be Chief George’s klooch.’ George was chief
of the Chilcoots, you know, and wanted her bad.
“Great days, those. Was a likely chap myself when I struck the
coast. Jumped a whaler, the Pole Star, at Unalaska, and worked my
way down to Sitka on an otter hunter. Picked up with Happy Jack
there–know him?”
“Had charge of my traps for me,” Dick answered, “down on the
Columbia. Pretty wild, wasn’t he, with a warm place in his heart
for whiskey and women?”
“The very chap. Went trading with him for a couple of seasons–
hooch, and blankets, and such stuff. Then got a sloop of my own,
and not to cut him out, came down Juneau way. That’s where I met
Killisnoo; I called her Tilly for short. Met her at a squaw dance
down on the beach. Chief George had finished the year’s trade
with the Sticks over the Passes, and was down from Dyea with half
his tribe. No end of Siwashes at the dance, and I the only white.
No one knew me, barring a few of the bucks I’d met over Sitka way,
but I’d got most of their histories from Happy Jack.
“Everybody talking Chinook, not guessing that I could spit it
better than most; and principally two girls who’d run away from
Haine’s Mission up the Lynn Canal. They were trim creatures, good
to the eye, and I kind of thought of casting that way; but they
were fresh as fresh-caught cod. Too much edge, you see. Being a
new-comer, they started to twist me, not knowing I gathered in
every word of Chinook they uttered.
“I never let on, but set to dancing with Tilly, and the more we
danced the more our hearts warmed to each other. ‘Looking for a
woman,’ one of the girls says, and the other tosses her head and
Tales of the Klondyke
39
answers, ‘Small chance he’ll get one when the women are looking
for men.’ And the bucks and squaws standing around began to grin
and giggle and repeat what had been said. ‘Quite a pretty boy,’
says the first one. I’ll not deny I was rather smooth-faced and
youngish, but I’d been a man amongst men many’s the day, and it
rankled me. ‘Dancing with Chief George’s girl,’ pipes the second.
‘First thing George’ll give him the flat of a paddle and send him
about his business.’ Chief George had been looking pretty black
up to now, but at this he laughed and slapped his knees. He was a
husky beggar and would have used the paddle too.
“‘Who’s the girls?’ I asked Tilly, as we went ripping down the
centre in a reel. And as soon as she told me their names I
remembered all about them from Happy Jack. Had their pedigree
down fine–several things he’d told me that not even their own
tribe knew. But I held my hush, and went on courting Tilly, they
a-casting sharp remarks and everybody roaring. ‘Bide a wee,
Tommy,’ I says to myself; ‘bide a wee.’
“And bide I did, till the dance was ripe to break up, and Chief
George had brought a paddle all ready for me. Everybody was on
the lookout for mischief when we stopped; but I marched, easy as
you please, slap into the thick of them. The Mission girls cut me
up something clever, and for all I was angry I had to set my teeth
to keep from laughing. I turned upon them suddenly.
“‘Are you done?’ I asked.
“You should have seen them when they heard me spitting Chinook.
Then I broke loose. I told them all about themselves, and their
people before them; their fathers, mothers, sisters, brothers–
everybody, everything. Each mean trick they’d played; every
scrape they’d got into; every shame that’d fallen them. And I
burned them without fear or favor. All hands crowded round.
Never had they heard a white man sling their lingo as I did.
Everybody was laughing save the Mission girls. Even Chief George
forgot the paddle, or at least he was swallowing too much respect
to dare to use it.
“But the girls. ‘Oh, don’t, Tommy,’ they cried, the tears running
down their cheeks. ‘Please don’t. We’ll be good. Sure, Tommy,
sure.’ But I knew them well, and I scorched them on every tender
spot. Nor did I slack away till they came down on their knees,
begging and pleading with me to keep quiet. Then I shot a glance
at Chief George; but he did not know whether to have at me or not,
and passed it off by laughing hollowly.
“So be. When I passed the parting with Tilly that night I gave
her the word that I was going to be around for a week or so, and
that I wanted to see more of her. Not thick-skinned, her kind,
when it came to showing like and dislike, and she looked her
pleasure for the honest girl she was. Ay, a striking lass, and I
didn’t wonder that Chief George was taken with her.
Tales of the Klondyke
40
“Everything my way. Took the wind from his sails on the first
leg. I was for getting her aboard and sailing down Wrangel way
till it blew over, leaving him to whistle; but I wasn’t to get her
that easy. Seems she was living with an uncle of hers–guardian,
the way such things go–and seems he was nigh to shuffling off
with consumption or some sort of lung trouble. He was good and
bad by turns, and she wouldn’t leave him till it was over with.
Went up to the tepee just before I left, to speculate on how long
it’d be; but the old beggar had promised her to Chief George, and
when he clapped eyes on me his anger brought on a hemorrhage.
“‘Come and take me, Tommy,’ she says when we bid good-by on the
beach. ‘Ay,’ I answers; ‘when you give the word.’ And I kissed
her, white-man-fashion and lover-fashion, till she was all of a
tremble like a quaking aspen, and I was so beside myself I’d half
a mind to go up and give the uncle a lift over the divide.
“So I went down Wrangel way, past St. Mary’s and even to the Queen
Charlottes, trading, running whiskey, turning the sloop to most
anything. Winter was on, stiff and crisp, and I was back to
Juneau, when the word came. ‘Come,’ the beggar says who brought
the news. ‘Killisnoo say, “Come now.”‘ ‘What’s the row?’ I asks.
‘Chief George,’ says he. ‘Potlach. Killisnoo, makum klooch.’
“Ay, it was bitter–the Taku howling down out of the north, the
salt water freezing quick as it struck the deck, and the old sloop
and I hammering into the teeth of it for a hundred miles to Dyea.
Had a Douglass Islander for crew when I started, but midway up he
was washed over from the bows. Jibed all over and crossed the
course three times, but never a sign of him.”
“Doubled up with the cold most likely,” Dick suggested, putting a
pause into the narrative while he hung one of Molly’s skirts up to
dry, “and went down like a pot of lead.”
“My idea. So I finished the course alone, half-dead when I made
Dyea in the dark of the evening. The tide favored, and I ran the
sloop plump to the bank, in the shelter of the river. Couldn’t go
an inch further, for the fresh water was frozen solid. Halyards
and blocks were that iced up I didn’t dare lower mainsail or jib.
First I broached a pint of the cargo raw, and then, leaving all
standing, ready for the start, and with a blanket around me,
headed across the flat to the camp. No mistaking, it was a grand
layout. The Chilcats had come in a body–dogs, babies, and
canoes–to say nothing of the Dog-Ears, the Little Salmons, and
the Missions. Full half a thousand of them to celebrate Tilly’s
wedding, and never a white man in a score of miles.
“Nobody took note of me, the blanket over my head and hiding my
face, and I waded knee deep through the dogs and youngsters till I
was well up to the front. The show was being pulled off in a big