Western Kansas world. [volume] (WaKeeney, Kan.) 1885-current, 1898-08-27

little effort to control the boat. 1t
was sight worth seeing. Their boat
was caught by the swift waters, taken
down between the rocks like shot,
whirled about like a top, brought
nearly back by the strong eddy and
finally cast adrift into the smoother
waters below. 1t was something
worth witnessing, but all are not so
fortunate, for. at this season, when
the water is so low, Thirty Mile is
really demon, ana a capricious one.
choosing its victims more according
to within than to anything else.
TWO MEN ON A ROCK.
Just as we round a bend in the
river we see two men on rock in the
middle of the river just ahead. Their
boat has been wrecked and its con-
tents lost, and we make an effort to
take them aboard as we pass, but it is
impossible. There are a half dozen
boats or more pulled up to the shore
opposite, while discussion goes on
as to the best means of getting the
men off. Finally a small boat is put
off from above, and as it comes whirI-
ing down the men leap in and are
brought ashore. Our artist got d snap
d jump
As for the Rink rapids, they can be
passed by the merest tyro of boat
man provided he keeps to the right
bank of the stream.
Along here the river is noble and
majestic. Her thousands of islands
are things of beauty, and were it not
for mosquitoes and the lack of spring
or clear water they would make ideal
summer outing homes. Sometimes
the scene reminds me of Lake George
or the Thousand islands of ST. Law
renee. Again one might imagine he
were on the Hudson or the Rhine, for
the shores are impressively grand.
But the current is always wickedly
swift, and the course must be watch
ed constantly to guard against hidden
rocks. So far as 1 know the nearest
we came to securing big game was
one evening when an object appeared
in midstream few hundred yards
ahead.
"See. A moose," shouts the old hun
ter of the party. "Pull hard, and
we'll have him before he gets over the
other side.'' The oarsmen bend to
their work. The old hunter springs
into the bow, rifle in hand, to be
ready to shoot when we get into
range. Yes, there are the giant ant
lers and the majestic poise of the
head. For time there is no percept-
ible gain. and we begin to fear that
the animal may reach the shore be-
fore we can overhaul him. The oars
men strain every nerve, and the old
hunter strains his eyes, until we find
it is nothing but a log and few limbs
floating down stream.
DAWSON CITY AT LAST.
1t is o'clock on the morning of
May Is. We ought to be somewhere
near Dawson. Two miles below on
the river bank the air is thick and
smoky. Presently we discover in the
distance on the east bank something
that looks like settlement. 1t is on
a stretch of lowland and is backed up
by hills. In five minutes we note its
resemblance to pictures of the famous
mining camp. 1t is the place we
have been looking for SO long. Klon-
dixie City is first passed, and then we
come to d long stretch of log cabins
on the water front. We are in Daw-
son City, and as we are among the
first to arrive this season a throng
awaits to give US helping hand in
| landing.
1t is the greatest gold country the
world has ever seen. But, alas, the
shining metal is locked in icy fetters
almost as strong and hard as steel.
The difficulties of unlocking them are
almost beyond comprehension.