The Ely miner. [volume] (Ely, Minn.) 1895-1986, 1918-02-15
LILLIAN MACLEOD RAINE


koes are safe In there without guide
l, Baptiste, know"
"Selfridge and his party went
through week ago. / can follow the
tracks they Left
"But If 1t rains, monsieur, the tracks
will vaneesh, nest ce pas? Lose the
way, and the little singing folk will
swarm in clouds about monsieur while
he stumbles through the swamp"
Elliot hesitated for the better part
of day, then came to an impulsive
decision. He had a reliable map, and
anyhow he had only to follow the
tracks left by the Selfridge party. He
turned his back upon the big river and
plunged into the wilderness.
There came night when he looked
up into the stars of the deep, still sky
and knew that he was hundreds of
miles from any other human being.
Never in all his life had he been so
much alone. He was not afraid, but
there was something awesome in a
world so empty of his kind.
The tracks Of the Selfridge party
grew fainter after night of rain. More
rain fell, and they were obliterated al
together.
Gordon fished. He killed fresh game
for his needs. Often he came on the
tracks Of moose and caribou. Some
times. startled, they leaped into view
quite close enough for shot, but he
used his rifle only to meet his wants.
The way led through valley and
morass, across hills and mountains. 1t
wandered in sort of haphazard fash
ion through a sun-bathed universe
washed clean of sordidness and mean
ness.
1t was the seventh night out that
Elliot suspected he was off the trail.
Rain sluiced down in torrents and next
day continued to pour from dun sky.
His own tracks were blotted out and
he searched for the trail in vain. Be-
fore he knew it he was entangled in
Fifty-Mile. His map showed him the
mOrass stretched for fifty miles to the
south, but he knew that it had been
charted hurriedly by surveying party
which had made no extensive explora-
lions. A good deal Of this country was
terra incOgnita. 1t ran vaguely into a
No Mans Land unknown to the pros
pector.
The going was heavy. Gordon had
to pick his way through the messy
swamp, leading the pack-horse by the
bride. Sometimes he was ankle-deep
in water of greenish slime. Again
he had to drag the animal from the
bog to a hummock Of grass which gave
a spongy footing. This would end in
another quagmire of peat through
which they must pillow with the mud
sucking at their feet. 1t was hard,
wearing toll. There was nothing to do
but keep moving. The young man
staggered forward till dusk. Utterly
he camped for the night on
a hillock of moss that rose like an
island In the swamp.
Elliot Travelled next day by the COM
pass. He had food for three DAYS
more, but he knew that no living man
had the strength to travel for so long
In such morass. 1t was near mid
day when he lost his horse. The ami
NAL had begged down several times
and Gordon had wasted much time and
spent a good deal Of needed energy In
dragging it to firmer footing. This time
the pony refused to answer the whip.
It's master unloaded pack and saddle.
He tried coaxing; he tried the whip.
"Come, Old-Timer. One plunge, and
you'll make it yet" he urged.
The pack-horse turned upon him
dumb eyes Of reproach, struggled to
free its limbs from the mud, and sank
down helplessly. 1t had travelled its
last yard on the long Alaska trails.
After the sound of the shot had died
away, Gordon struggled with the pack
to the nearest hummock. He cut holes
in a gunny-Sack to fit his shoulders
and packed into it his blankets, g
the beans, the coffee, and
the diminished handful of -four. Into
1t went, too, the three slices of bacon
that were left.
He hoisted the pack to his back and
slipped his arms through the Sits he
had made. Painfully he labored for
ward over the quivering peat. Some
times he stumbled and went down into
the ooZing mud, minded to stay there
and be done with the struggle. But
the urge of life drove him to his feet
again. 1t carried him for weary miles
after he despaired of ever covering
another hundred yards.
With old. half-forgotten signals from
the football field he spurred his will
Perhaps his mind was already begin
ming to wander, though through it all
he held steadily to the direction that
alone could save him.
When at last he went down to stay 1t
was in an exhaustion so complete that
not even his indomitable will could
ash him to his feet again. Fer an
hour he lay in a stupor, never stirring
even to fight the swarm of mosquitoes
that buzzed about him.
Toward evening he sat up and undid
the pack from his back. The matches,
IN tin box wrapped carefully with
)ilskin, were still perfectly dry. Soon
ne had a fire going and coffee boiling
n the frying-pan. From the tin cup he
carried strung on his belt he drank
he coffee. 1t went through him like
strong liquor. He warmed some beans
md fried himself slice of bacon,
'opping up the grease with a cold bis
,uit left over from the day before.
Again he slept for few hours. He
had wound his watch mechanically and
t showed him four o'clock when he
.ook up the trail once more In Seattle
md San Francisco people were still
asleep and darkness was heavy over
he land. Here 1t had been day for a
ong time, ever since the summer sun,
hidden for while behind the low, dis