The morning news. [volume] (Savannah, Ga.) 1887-1900, 1897-04-11
THE PHANTOM RAFT.
The Tragic story of n Treasure
Found in the Northwest.
From the Philadelphia Times.

craze thousands of young men pushed out
into the great northwest, without any
very definite notion of where they were
going, or what their plan Of action would
be when they got there. They simply
Joined the stampede for the Pacific coast,
hoping to gain some trustworthy informa-
ton en- route; or, breaking away entirely
from the main body of gold-seekers, they
ventured into unknown regions, in the
hope of discovering some rich deposit III
locality where there would be, in all
probability, none to dispute their claim,
Or to object to their pre-empting and
working a whole township, If they wished.
Among the latter were my college chum,
Robert Trefry, and myself. We got it into
our heads that the region near the head
waters Of the Yellowstone river, then but
very little known, ought 10 be rich in
mineral deposits, though we had little or
no evidence upon which to base such
supposition. But with the usual hot-head-
edness and romantic disposition of youth,
we longed to get out of the beaten track,
and combine a little of the excitement OF
exploration with that of gold-seeking. so
while the rest of our little party kept on
to California, we branched off towards
the northwest, equipped with the usual
prospectors' outfit, and were soon beyond
Tic OulpOStS VI ClNlA4IdtlOH.
After three days of hard travelling, with
out having seen a human being or a sign
of one, we Unexpectedly came up with an
old hunter and trappeT, who was back
ing a load of supplies from the settle
ments to his lonely cabin in what is now
the great Yellowstone Park. Acquaintan-
ces are soon formed in the wilderness, and
in less than fifteen minutes the greater
part of the trapper's burden had been
CT IN YNa ri mule and We
were all tramping along together, talking
as freely as if we had been companions
from the start.
My partner and soon found that the ad-
vantage lay as much upon our side as
upon the trapper's, for the latter's init
mate knowledge of the country made him
sure guide, and he was also able to tell
US pretty much all we wanted to know
about the head-waters of the Yellowstone,
excepting whether gold wars to be found
there. The old man declared that he never
had any desire to accumulate the yellow
metal, as he did not care for the value it
represented In the marts of civilization. So
long as he could barter his furs for the
simple necessities of a hunters life his
every want was satisfied.
do you know whether any other party
of prospectors ever came into this section
in search of gold?" asked Trefry of the
old man, as we sat by our campfire, smok-
ing, one evening.
II was a minute or more before the
trapper answered. Then he said, simply:
YES but 1 don't know what ever be-
came of them" Further questioning only
caused him to shake his head. II can't tell
YOU" he would say They never came
back my way at least"
We began to suspect that there was
some mystery about the matter that dis
quieted our companion. The subject was
one that he did not like to talk about We
brought it up several times afterwards,
but could get nothing more out Of him.
Il believe the old fellow has a grain Of
superstition in his makeup" whispered
Robert to me. as the trapper took his AK
and went out among the shadows to cut
more wood for the fire. HE has either
seen the ghost of one of those prospec-
tors, or imagines he has, I'd give a good
deal to know what became of them"
By this time we had reached the valley
of the Yellowstone, If that high table-land
through which the river has cut its tomb
like channel can properly be called a val
ley. The trapper's cabin had been reached
and passed. 1t was evident that he wished
to accompany US farther, and we were
not at all averse to his doing so, for we
had found him not only very helpful in
ways where our ignorance was anything
but bliss, but also an agreeable compan-
ion. AS for his occasional fits of supersti-
ton, they only amused US.
For many days we journeyed toward the
sources of the river, following the vast,
yawning canon, over whose edge we often
stopped to peer, amazed at its dark, cav
ernous depths. At some points the gulf
was simply awe-inspiring, the walls of
rock rising nearly a quarter of a mile
straight up from the water.
1t was on the ninth day of our journey
up the river, at noon. The old trapper
was walking In advance, leading the pack
mule. All at once he stopped so sudden
ly that the mules dropping head ran into
him, and came near knocking him over
the precipice. He staggered, recovered
his balance, and struck back at the mule
with his left hand, but never turned his
face an instant from the gulf into which
he was staring.
AS we came hurriedly up, we noticed the
pallor of the old mans cheek. Even his
stern-cut profile showed the horror de-
picted upon his features. Apparently, he
did not heed our approach, or notice US,
as we bent cautiously over the brink or
the canon. and gazed down at the dark
river, hundreds of feet below.
The sight that met our eyes was GER
tainly enough to chill the blood in a mans
veins, and send shiver down his back
bone. About fifteen feet out from the
wall of rock upon which we stood, a rude
ly-Dullt rdIt was noatlng up stream. On
this raft lay the skeletons of two men,
glistening horribly white out OF the
shadow of the canon walls. To the middle
of the raft was bound large bundle,
carefully wrapped in slickers, the mate
rial of which had not yet rotted away.
Two rusty rifles and an ak completed the
freight on the wierd craft
Too astounded to speak a word we all
three stood rooted in our tracks, watch
ing the phantom raft, as it, apparently,
made its way up stream, against the cur
rent of the mighty river. For a hundred
feet or more 1t glided along, smoothly and
steadily. Then, of a sudden, 1t paused,
swerved began to whirl, and finally shot
out towards the middle of the stream, and
was carried swiftly down by the main
current
For fully three hundred feet it sped
along; then It was drawn sharply towards
the cliff, and thrust out of the main cur,
rent into a great whirlpool, which once
more carried 1t steadily up stream, only
a few feet outside the wall of rock on
which we stood.
Look therew cried the old trapper,
breaking the strained silence for the first
time, and pointing downwards with his
trembling finger. Those are the ghosts
Of Pierre and Mart. condemned to float