Worcester Democrat and the ledger-enterprise. (Pocomoke City, Md.) 1921-1953, 1937-07-30
CHAPTER 1

was Prince RuperCS most DOunCl1ul
crop.
He made the climb from the water
front and cut across the little ter
raced park, where totem poles stood
cleaning with moisture and grotes-
quely lonely. Everything dripped in
Prince Rupert this morning, even the
discolered, stuffed Kadiak bear in
front of AL Monson's trading store.
At last Hammond halted abruptly,
looking over the wooden fence of a
back yard. Howls and whines had
centered his attention.
"What are you trying to do with
that dog?" he asked. A man halted
in his efforts to kick a harnessed
mongrel into progress along muddy
space before a makeshift sleigh,
weighted with stones.
"Going to make sled dog out of
him."
"That bozo? He hasn't got the
weight for it."
ooh, he's pretty strong" The man
grinned. "Say, they'll be buying any
thing where this dogs going!"
where's that?"
The pseudo-trainer jerked his head
toward the white pinnacles of distant
mountains.
"Over the hills there in B. Co." the
man said, "up the Caribou river, some
where around the valley of the Stikine.
Haven't you heard about it,"
Hammond's features had become
strangely grim.
What's going on?"
"Where've you been that you hav-
emit read the papers?"
"On the Aleutian, coming up from
Vancouver"
The dog trainer stared.
1.-The ship that got in this morn
ing?" he asked. "And you didn't know
about it? Then you must have been
deaf, dumb and blind. There were
plenty of others who came on that
boat-just because of it."
Because of what?" Jack Ham,
mond's hands, where they gripped the
fence, were strangely discolored.
"Well, if you amt kidding-the gold
rush. Two fellows found placer gold
up there. A couple of guys named
Mckenzie Joe Britten and his part
ner, Jack Hammond"
"Oh, see," said Hammond jerkily.
"Yeh." The volunteer trainer rub
bed casually at the loose fur of his
dog. Guess they'd figured to keep it
quiet, all for themselves, you know.
But this Hammond goes down to
Seattle to see some old girl he'd been
stuck on since he was kid. Then he
got on big bust and spilled every
thing. It's been in all the papers, I
guess. Quite romance"
Eyes, quite" said Hammond thinly.
$50 everybody's figuring on going up
there, eh?"
Everybody and his brother. That's
why 1 thought I'd train this dog"
THAT dog can't make the grade in
the Stikine country. Zero's hot day
around there this time of year. No
chest. Thin legs. A light coat from
being around this coast country. No
hair on his fetched last about two
days on the trail"
THAT amt my worry. Let the fell
low who buys him lose sleep over
that" He gave the dog kick, shout
ing: "Mush! Mush on, there!'
The dogs bowls remained in Jack
Hammond's ears as he walked slowly
up the street. So this was a gold
rush-this an echo of the broken laugh
ter and excited gatherings of himself
and McKensie Joe Britten, one day
last autumn, up there in the far-away
Stikine country. Then their discovery
of placer or nugget gold, poor mans
gold, as it is so often called, had
brought great visions. Here was new
money, waiting to be washed from the
gravel Of a river, and Of value the
minute it was found; no need for great
shafts and expensive machinery to
extract this wealth.
There had been big talk that day
of what new gold meant to wait
ing world, the happiness it would
bring, the accomplishments. There
had been no thought of the greed,
the suffering, the jealousies and
hatred which must inevitably follow.
He passed Al Monson's trading store
and Ben Deacon's. Both were Jam
med with purchasers; many had the
white faces of persons who knew moth
ing of wind or pelting ice particles
the whip of blizzard or the blaze