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Great Gold Rush: A Tale of the Klondike

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<h3>THE MAN WITH THE POUCH</h3> There were no signs of hesitancy in the movements of the man with the small round burden. He entered the Borealis, advanced to the bar, upon which he threw down the sack. "Pass along your poison," said he to the bartender. "What will it be?" "What will it be! Why wine, what else would it be? Pass along a bottle." "Large or small?" "Large or small! Why large, of course! Say, son, what do you take me for?" The bottle of wine was opened, and the new-comer quenched a willing thirst. He then turned to the crowd that had by this time clustered round him. "Come on and have a drink, boys," he said, waving the bottle. "Belly-up to this good American timber." He jumped upon the bar[Pg 300] and drank again. "Wine, wine! Give them wine, feed the nectar of the gods to the swine! Make 'em happy for once." Notwithstanding the manner of the invitation, the crowd responded, and soon the two bartenders were busy. "Stack the empties there so I can see and count 'em; thirty dollars per," and the host pointed to a shelf against the wall. "Where did you get it?" shouted one of his guests. He made no reply, but continued his tirade. "Oh, you malamoots, you coyotes! You swine, descended of jackals! Drink, damn you, drink—you who live in this neck of the woods, and lie down and are robbed! no self-respecting jackal would own you for his sons. You who call yourselves citizens of the great and glorious United States! You're here rottin' in your cabins, the manhood squashed out of you by the yellow-legs. Say! throw the booze into you, and then tell me what I can call you to let you know how low down I think you." "Say! partner," called another, "cut out all that and tell us where you got the swag." "You sundowners and larrikins! Do you not remember Hanson's reward? Why don't you get in and dig?" "Blow that, and tell us what's what—straight[Pg 301] wire." Kalgoorlie Charlie also was feeling the effect of the liquor. The man on the bar began to dance a hornpipe, while the crowd surged excitedly around. The news had spread like wildfire through the dance halls. "Some fellow from new diggings was blowing himself!" The Borealis soon became crowded. "Oh, you lily-livered gelatinous-vertibraed apologies for men!" cried he. "What do you take me for? Me to go off into the bush for months and rustle new diggings, and then tell a lot of perambulating carrion like you where I struck it! Drink, and be damned to you! I don't care for a little gold. I wouldn't mind letting you have a claim next to mine; the claim I have will produce enough gold to make the Bank of England look like the baby's savings-account! Do you think I would show a bunch of Weary Willies like you where a month's work would make you all millionaires? Come, have another drink, and get wise." The speaker again put the mouth of his bottle to his lips; but a keen observer would have noticed that his throat gave no movement to indicate that the wine was passing to his stomach. This was noticed by Berwick alone, who had followed the man with the big poke, but had stood just inside the doorway. Berwick guessed[Pg 302] he was acting a part, and wondered why. He watched. There was a confused buzz of conversation. "He must have struck the real stuff," remarked one. "He sure has the goods," agreed another. "This will make a hole in his poke," said a third. "If what he says is anything near right, this ain't a pinch of snuff," was the comment of a fourth. The man dancing on the bar stood waving his bottle, looking at the crowd with a stupid stare, evidently awaiting inspiration, when a voice cried, "Say! old cock, won't you let us have the news? We'll protect you in discovery." "Oh, you North American Chinamen, called Canadians, do you know what I think of you? You English, you ain't no better than the others; do you all know what I think of you?" "You've told us straight enough—there's lot's of colour in your bouquets; now tell us which way the new diggings is." "There ain't no yellow-legs there." Some one shouted, "There won't be any yellow-legs here after to-morrow," but the remark was lost in the general noise. "It's in Alaskie—God's country," came a voice from the tumult.[Pg 303] "I did not say so." "But it is, it is!" "I don't say it ain't." "It's in God's country—whereabouts?" "That's what I ain't tellin'." There was a clamour of inquiries. The new-comer, still holding his bottle prominently, was the target of eager gaze. "Up the Porcupine—the Tanana, or the Koyukuck?" "You must think I'm easy!" He spoke with a leer. "You've made your stake, why not tell us where to make ours? It's a law of the frontier." "So it is among pards. You ain't no pards of mine; I'm just standing you a few drinks out of pity, finding my reward in tellin' you what I think of you." "You've told us what you think of us. Now tell us what we want to hear." "Quite sure I've expressed myself strong enough?" "Quite! Oh, quite!"—came from a dozen voices. "Well, then, I'll tell you." But he from the newly-found Eldorado stopped at the promise, and paused, regarding his audience. A strange silence came over the erstwhile struggling and swaying mass. The building was[Pg 304] full, and the crowd extended into the street, where there were hundreds more; and to this great number additions were continually being made. "Well, where is it?" "It's on the south fork." The speaker put the bottle to his mouth once more. Groans and hisses broke from the crowd. "If you don't tell us after keeping us here we'll string you up on a telegraph-pole." "I did not keep you here: it was the free booze; besides, there ain't no telegraph-poles in Dawson." "Well—we'll chuck you into the river." "I'll swim out: I'm strong on baths—though perhaps I don't look it! Have another drink?" "What we want now is a straight tip—and you had better give it." "It's on the south fork of the north branch." "The north branch of what?" "I ain't tellin'." "By God, you'd better! We ain't going to stand for more foolin'." "You are all what I say you are—the scum of the earth." "All right! We're anything you like: but let us have the news." "It's the south fork of the north branch of the south fork——" "What are you quitting for? why don't you spit it out of you?"[Pg 305] "Ain't I getting rid of it?" "Not fast enough; quick, out with it!" "Don't be impatient, sons, patience is a great virtue. It's taken me nigh to fifty years' hard prospecting to make a strike—and you fellows want me to tell you all about it in fifty minutes! How many minutes are there in fifty years?" "You old fool, you'd better quit playing with us." "Who wants to play with you?" "You're teasing us; now quit! What river is this where you found the gold?" "Well, it's the south fork of the north branch of the south fork of the south branch——" "Oh, hell!" interrupted one of the impatient ones. "There now, just when I get going you fellows spoil it all. Remember, it took fifty years almost——" "And it will take you fifty years to tell us where you did find it." "No, it won't; it's on the Fifty-Seven Mile River." "The Fifty-Seven Mile River! The south fork of the north branch of the south fork of the north branch of the Fifty-Seven Mile River!" A great shout went up. The Fifty-Seven Mile River emptied into the Yukon on the Canadian side, but it "headed" in Alaska, where the diggings probably were.[Pg 306] Within two minutes the Borealis was practically empty. Of the few remaining John Berwick was one. He stood with his back to the wall, staring at the man who still stood on the bar, who returned the stare. Meanwhile the host had turned to the row of bottles and begun the counting. The number was sixty. "Sixty! eighteen hundred dollars, cheap at double the money," said the man, who proceeded to weigh out the cost. That done he stalked out of the saloon and rapidly went his way. There was so much activity and excitement about that his progress to the Barracks was uninterrupted. No sooner was he within the gate than he tore off his beard and wig. It was Constable Hope. Berwick had followed him from the saloon and watched him enter the Barracks. He now realized all that it meant. A blow had been struck at his organization. He realized that it was too late for any counter-effort. Greed of gold had taken possession of the men. A new rush was beginning. What call could reason, loyalty, righteousness make against that? He wandered to the water-front and watched the activity, for within half an hour of the news of the supposed new strike being received boats had begun to shoot out from the river bank, bearing adventurers to the new diggings. <hr style="width: 65%;"/>[Pg 307] <h2>CHAPTER XXXVI</h2> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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