CHAPTER X
THROUGH THE DRIFTS
Sledging over snow four feet deep--Making a camp in the snow--Finding traces of gold--A grand slide down a snow-covered hill--My polka breaks with disastrous results--Prospecting over the Stanovoi range.
The next morning we had before us ten miles of forest in which the snow lay four feet deep, and the trail was unbroken. This meant serious work for our teams. At the advice of Chrisoffsky I hired two reindeer narties to go ahead and break the trail, but they had to keep a mile in advance, out of sight of our dogs. The snow had been falling all night, and when we came out in the morning, we saw only a lot of little snow hummocks, like baby graves in the snow. Chrisoffsky cried, "Hyuk, hyuk!" and there occurred a most surprising resurrection. Every dog jumped clear of the ground from his warm bed and clamored to be off. I looked to see them fed, but nothing were they to have till their day's work was done. When fed during the day they are lazy and useless, but with the anticipation of salmon heads before them they push on heroically. It would be difficult to express adequately my admiration for these animals. They are patient, faithful, and always ready for work.
A mile, then, in the lead went the reindeer narties to break the trail; and ahead of them were two Tunguse villagers on snow-shoes to mark the way for the deer.
A mile in the rear came the dogs, and heavy work it was, as is shown by the fact that when lunch-time came we had made only five miles.
When we came up with the Tunguses they had already built a fire, and water was boiling. The deer were tethered in the bushes about two hundred yards away, out of sight of the dogs. The latter smelled them, however, and were making desperate efforts to break out of their harness and give chase, but their efforts seemed futile, so we paid no more attention to them. As we were busy drinking tea I happened to look around, and was dismayed to see that the worst dog in the pack had broken loose and was already near the deer, who were plunging and making desperate efforts to escape. When the dog was almost at the throat of the nearest deer it broke its fastenings and made off through the snow, followed by the rest of the herd. We hurried after them on our snow-shoes at our best speed. The deer could easily outstrip the dog in the deep snow, but we wanted to stop the chase before they were completely frightened away. But we were too late. By the time that we had secured the dog the deer were a mile away, making straight for home, and we knew that nothing could stop them till they found themselves in their own village.
[Illustration: Mr. Vanderlip and Reindeer Team.]
Thus it came about that we had to break our own trail for the balance of the way through the woods. This proved to be extremely difficult.
Every man had to put his shoulder to the wheel, or rather to the sledge, and frequently it was necessary to use several teams of dogs on a single sledge, and then return for the other sledge. When night came we found that we had covered nine miles, after an exceedingly hard day's work. We were still a mile from the river, where we were sure to find a good road on the ice.
We had now to prepare for the night. With our snow-shoes for shovels we cleared a space twelve feet square right down to the ground, and built a roaring fire in the center of the cleared spot. The loaded sledges were placed on the banks about the sides, while the dogs lay, as usual, in the snow. Our sleeping-bags were placed about the fire on piles of fir boughs, and after a good supper of reindeer soup, bread, and tea, we lay down and went to sleep. A light snow covered us with a mantle of down, which ensured our warmth.
When I awoke in the morning and opened my hood, I found two inches of snow over me. That day we floundered through the remaining mile of deep snow to the river. I was pushing one of the sledges, when we came to the steep bank that leads down to the river. The sled began to glide down the declivity, settling deeper and deeper. Chrisoffsky called to me to get on quickly, as there was open water beneath, but he was too late. I was already in the icy water up to my knees. We had unfortunately struck a snow-bridge over open water. The sled was fast in the snow, and the dogs were struggling madly. By vigorous pulling and pushing we managed to get the sledge out on to the ice. The other drivers, who were behind, saw our predicament and went up-stream, prodding with their polkas until they found solid ice beneath.
Chrisoffsky immediately began taking the lashings off the pack on the sled to get me dry fur socks and boots. Almost before I could undo the lashings, those I wore were frozen stiff. The last one was cut away with a knife. I applied a vigorous rubbing with snow to my feet and they were soon glowing with warmth. Then pulling on the warm, soft fur socks and fresh boots, I found that I had suffered no harm; but Chrisoffsky warned me that whenever I had wet feet I must change immediately or serious consequences would result. At the time, the thermometer stood between ten and fifteen degrees below zero.
On examining the wind-swept bars of the creek there seemed to be good promise of gold, so making camp near timber I prepared for a three or four days' stay. The ground was frozen to bed-rock, and it was necessary to thaw it out all the way down. The following day I unloaded the sledges and sent them into the woods under the direction of Chrisoffsky to haul in fuel for the fires. I selected a likely spot and proceeded to thaw out a shaft. As this was very slow work, I determined to try it in several places at the same time. After the fires had burned three hours the picks and shovels would be called into play, and we could take out about twelve or fifteen inches of gravel. The surface gravel showed some small "colors" in the pan, and I determined to set watches and keep the fires going night and day. A windlass was rigged over one of the shafts, and we went down twenty-five feet, till we came to boulders which showed that we were near bed-rock. Six inches more brought us to the end. I eagerly panned out some of the gravel and found several tiny nuggets, but was forced to admit that there was not enough gold to pay for working. The other shafts showed the same results; so we were compelled to move on after four days of exhausting and fruitless work. We repeated this operation at several other points on the river, and carefully examined the outcroppings all along the stream. Coming to the head of the river, we crossed over the summit of the ridge. The aneroid showed that we were seven thousand six hundred feet above the sea level. When we reached the top, we found that a long, smooth stretch of snow swept down into the valley beyond. For a quarter of a mile the smooth, hard surface was unbroken by bush or stone. I asked Chrisoffsky how it would do to slide down, but he shook his head and replied that it would be dangerous for dogs and sledges alike. I had, however, conceived the foolish notion that it would relieve the monotony of life a little to slide down that incline, and I over-persuaded my driver to make the attempt. Moreover, it would save several miles of travel over a safer but more circuitous route. The dogs were unhitched. Chrisoffsky's two sons took one of the sledges, and, by sticking their heels into the snow, slid about half way down somewhat slowly, then they both climbed on to the sledge, stuck their polkas into the snow for brakes, and "let her go." They went the remaining distance like an arrow, and shot out into the plain below triumphantly. They stopped and waved their hands as much as to say, "See how easy it is." Chrisoffsky then sent down one team of dogs, still fastened to the tug. This was a mistake, for the leaders went cautiously and the others crowded on them. In an instant they were one howling, wrangling ball of dog-fur rolling down the hill. The natives were all shouting and cursing their liveliest, but I could only hold my sides with laughter. I utterly refused to see the serious side of the adventure. The remaining dogs were sent down two and two.
Chrisoffsky and I, with one sled, were the last to go. Sitting on opposite sides of the sledge with our polkas carefully adjusted, we slipped over the brink and shot down the hill. By some perverse chance my polka broke in my hands, the sledge slewed around, and we both went head over heels. I landed on my head some yards from the careening sledge and continued my journey down the hill in a variety of attitudes, all of which were exciting, but none very comfortable. Had I not been so heavily bundled up I could not have escaped serious injury. Old Chrisoffsky and the sledge were a good second in the race, first one and then the other being on top. They held together bravely.
When we all rounded up at the bottom and took an inventory of damages, we found that there were no bones broken and that no harm had been done, except to my Winchester rifle, the barrel of which was sprung.
[Illustration: Native Winter Camp.]
And as the days passed, I continued to busy myself examining the outcroppings or digging in the creek beds for signs of gold, until about the middle of December, by which time I had gone over that section of the Stanovoi range pretty thoroughly as far as their southern slopes were concerned. And then I essayed to pass over the lofty range to discover what was on the other side.
CHAPTER XI
BURIED IN A BLIZZARD
A trip to the northern side of the Stanovoi range of mountains--Nijni Kolymsk, the most-feared convict station--Sledging by light of the aurora--Lost in a blizzard on the vast tundra--Five days in a snow dugout--I earn a reputation as a wizard--Back at Chrisoffsky's.
In order to reach the northern side of the Stanovoi range of mountains it was necessary to make use of one of the few passes that are to be found. At an elevation of nine thousand feet, we succeeded in accomplishing the passage, and found ourselves on the head waters of the Kolyma River. The name as given in that locality was more like Killamoo than Kolyma. Due north, far across the wastes of snow, was the town of Nijni Kolymsk, the spot most dreaded by Siberian convicts.
This station is used only for the most dangerous political prisoners.
About their only occupation is to gather hay and pick berries in summer. Provisions are carried to them in the summer by a man-of-war.
None but Russians in authority are ever allowed near the place. The natives could give me very little definite information about it. They had strict orders from the magistrate in Ghijiga not to approach this convict station.
We swung to the northeast and east, which course would bring us back to Ghijiga. Wherever it was possible we examined the float rock and sunk shafts to determine whether any of the precious metal was hidden away in the mountains or beneath the waters of the streams. As we came back over the mountains our course lay over the head waters of the Paran River, which runs southeasterly and enters the Okhotsk Sea. We passed over the divide between this and the Ghijiga, and tried to steer a straight course for Chrisoffsky's house. Here we came to a stretch of tundra two hundred miles wide. The snow was hard and the going very good. We struck the trail of a number of "dog" Koraks who were, evidently, bringing in their furs. The tundra was as level as a floor, and the driving was so easy that it was possible to sit and doze while the dogs sped over the white expanse.
As it was now December the nights were made bright by the light of the aurora, while at noon the sun just shone, a red disk, above the southern horizon. This is the month noted in that region for its severe storms. The days were mostly overcast. The second morning after we had started out across the tundra a light flurry of snow blew up.
Chrisoffsky shook his head and said it was going to storm. We were just half way across the bare tundra, the worst place possible in which to try to weather one of these storms, because of the utter lack of fire-wood. Chrisoffsky called back to me that he was looking for a _porgo_, which, in his dialect, means a blizzard. About noon the storm struck us with full force. I was continually standing up in the sledge to catch a sight, if possible, of some trailing pine where we could make an excavation and find fire-wood; but it was all in vain. At last the dogs lost sight of the trail and could follow it only by the sense of smell. When the snow came down so heavily that we could hardly see our leading dogs, we halted to let the others catch up with us. With our snow-shoes we dug down six feet to the ground, making an excavation that was, roughly, eight feet square. Placing the three sledges around the edge of the hole, we banked them in with snow. Then we took a tarpaulin from one of the sledges and with walrus-hide rope improvised a sort of roof over our dug-out. The dogs, after washing themselves, dug holes in the snow and settled down comfortably to sleep. They were almost immediately covered with snow. At this time the thermometer stood thirty-five below zero. We could not tell whether it was actually snowing or whether the snow was only being driven by the wind, but at any rate, the air was filled with it and the prospect was anything but exhilarating. We lined the bottom of the hole with furs, got out our sleeping-bags, and prepared for a long siege.
As we were without fuel, we had to eat cold food. Frozen reindeer meat taken raw is not an appetizing dish, but this, together with hard bread and pounded soup-ball, formed our diet for the next few days. As we had but few fish left, the dogs were put on short allowance. In this snowy prison we were held for four mortal days, and were obliged to climb out every three or four hours and relieve the tarpaulin of the weight of snow. Our furs were damp, caused by our breath, which congealed and thawed again from the warmth of the body; to say the very least of it, we were extremely uncomfortable. At last it got so bad that I gave orders to burn one of the sledges, and that day we feasted on hot tea. Our deer meat was all gone, so we stopped feeding the dogs, and appropriated the remaining fish to our own use. The result was that the dogs began gnawing their harness, and had to be chained up with dog-chains which we carried for the purpose. The time spent in our snow retreat was not entirely lost. To while away the tedious hours I gave my arctic friends some lessons in astronomy, using snowballs as object-lessons. It was not an ideal observatory, but there was at least snow enough to have represented all the heavenly bodies, down to fixed stars of the fourteenth magnitude. It all began by their asking how God made the aurora. On the side of our excavation I made a rough bas-relief of the great masonic temple in Chicago. They looked at it very politely, but I could see that they took me for the past master of lying. I told them all about elections, telephones, phonographs, and railroads, and gathered from their expression that they thought I had gone mad from the cold and exposure. They looked at one another and muttered, "Duroc, duroc,"
which is Russian for crazy.
I also amused myself at their expense by the use of a compass and a little pocket magnet; the latter I palmed and with it made the magnetic needle play all sorts of antics. They asked what made the needle move about continually, and I replied that it would point to any place that I might designate, by simply requesting it to do so.
Chrisoffsky, the skeptical, thought he had caught me, for he immediately asked me to make it point toward Ghijiga. Now I happened to know about where Ghijiga lay, for just before the storm came on I had caught a glimpse of a mountain near that town. So I put the compass in my lap, palmed the magnet, and began muttering and waving my hand over the compass. At the same time I repeated, in sepulchral tones, the magic formula:
Ere eirie ickery Ann, Fillisy follisy Nicholas John, Queevy quavy English navy, Stickelum stackelum Johniko buck!
The hand with the magnet was now in the proper position, and the needle pointed steadily toward Ghijiga. Old Chrisoffsky sat with amazement and fear pictured all over his face. He glanced over his shoulder as if looking for some place to run, and exclaimed in a deep and piteous tone, "Dia Bog!" which means, "O Lord."
After a long silence he asked me if the compass would answer his questions as well. I said I did not know, but that he might try it and see. Concentrating his whole attention upon the compass, he bent over it and tried to imitate my motions, and asked the instrument to tell him the direction in which his house lay. Of course the needle, which, meanwhile, I had been causing to swing about in all directions, now came to a standstill due north, directly away from his house. He looked puzzled and said it must be because he did not understand the wizard formula, and I promised to teach it to him at some future time.
I also performed some other simple tricks, which actually frightened him so that for a time he went out and sat in the snow all alone. I found later that my reputation as a wizard spread through that whole district, and time and time again I had to go over these old tricks before admiring audiences.
[Illustration: Mr. Vanderlip on March with Deer Outfit.]
During the night of the fifth day the storm passed and the stars came out once more. Our bedraggled party crawled forth from our prison, and harnessed up the weak, but willing, dogs, who seemed to know that we were not far from home; for they tugged at their collars gladly, and we were soon gliding over the snow.
Ten miles from Chrisoffsky's house we came down upon the wind-swept ice of the Chorny Raichka, a tributary of the Ghijiga. From this point the going was ideal. We had timber on both sides, but we did not stop to build a fire. The dogs were very weak, yet they displayed wonderful mettle, knowing they were near home. They went so fast that the sledges were continually slewing about on the smooth ice in imminent danger of capsizing; but they were steadied by a clever use of the polka.
While still a mile from Chrisoffsky's, we saw women and children running out to meet us. Because of the storm and the fact that we were two weeks overdue, we knew that there would be anxious mothers and wives in the little village. We came in with a flourish, a score of children hanging on the sides of the sledges. We encountered a terrific storm of kisses, which I evaded as best I could. Willing hands unhitched the faithful dogs, and then we all went into the house. The village was warned of our approach while still far away, because each dog carried a little sleigh-bell on his back. The people had heard the tinkling of the bells sometime before we had come in sight.
To say that we fed off the fat of the land is literally true. Seal fat, deer fat, marrow fat, blubber galore with cranberries, and tea by the gallon. For once I gladly exchanged snow for vermin. Perhaps the greatest comfort was the opportunity to wash my face and hands, which I had not been able to do for seven days.
CHAPTER XII
CHRISTMAS--THE "DEER KORAKS"
I celebrate Christmas day with the over-kind assistance of two hundred natives--Koraks as sharp-shooters--Comic features of a Russian dance--Off for Kaminaw--Another runaway--Slaughtering deer--A curious provision of nature--Eight families in one yourta--Korak method of washing dishes--A herd of ten thousand deer.
When I reached town the Russians desired to know what I had accomplished, and I was obliged to tell them that I had discovered no considerable deposits of gold on the head waters of the Ghijiga.
Some time before this I had caused it to become known that I would pay liberally in tea or other commodities for bags of rock picked up in the beds of streams and delivered in Ghijiga. I now found upward of a ton of such specimens awaiting my inspection. This was my information bureau. I had found the natives trustworthy, and I knew they would not pick up specimens near by and claim they had been brought from a distance. Some that I thus examined had been brought seven hundred miles. By a careful examination and classification of these specimens I was able to determine the various geological formations of the district, and the next three weeks were spent in this important work.
I wanted to be off again promptly, but as Christmas was at hand, it was impossible to secure dog-teams; so I was obliged to rest.
As I sat in my cabin on Christmas eve, thinking over old times, and feeling, perhaps, a trifle blue, I determined to usher in the great day with some eclat. So I loaded up every firearm that I had, and when midnight came I stepped outside and "let loose" with revolvers, rifles, and shotguns. The first effect was to wake up four hundred dogs, who responded with howls and barks, which they kept up till morning. At seven o'clock, my Russian friends came flocking over to find out what I was celebrating. I told them that it was our Christmas day. Their Christmas comes twelve days later than ours. When they found out the cause of my exhilaration they slipped away, but within three hours the women and children began to appear, each loaded with a steaming dish. There were meats, fowls, berries, pasties, fish, blubber, stuffed ptarmigan, deer tongues, and other things--enough to feed a hundred men. When the table was so full that it could hold no more, they put the dishes on the floor. I knew well that they had brought much more than I could handle, and I was somewhat embarrassed by their excessive generosity. But my fears were ill-founded, for soon the whole village began to arrive. The priests and magistrates came first, and then the rest in descending scale, and by the time they were done, all the good things that they had brought had been consumed, as well as all that I could obtain from Mrs. Braggin. Two hundred were fed, and by night I was entirely cleaned out--cupboard, shelf, and cellar. What the small children could not eat they put in their pockets. The Russian storekeepers sent me a bag of coppers, telling me that it was the custom to give each child a coin on such occasions. When I went to bed at night, I determined that I would never again disturb the peace of Christmas night with firearms.
On New Year's eve, fearing that the ceremony might be repeated, I stole away on my snow-shoes and spent the day hunting ptarmigan. I had good luck, and bagged all I could carry. These beautiful little birds are about the size of a pigeon, but of heavier build. In summer their color is brown, but in winter it is pure white, and they sit motionless in the snow, so that it is almost impossible to discover them. The native boys kill them with bows and arrows. Almost all the natives of the far north are good shots, being trained to it from boyhood. In order to catch ermine and _belk_ (arctic squirrel) they must be marksmen of the first order; for these animals are small, and must be shot in the head, or the skin is worthless. For this purpose, twenty-two caliber rifles of German manufacture are used. They are muzzle-loaders, and can be purchased in Vladivostok for four roubles.
The natives rig them up with a forked rest, and an ermine at seventy-five yards stands no chance of escape.