THE KLONDYKE GOLD MYSTERY.

Auckland Star, Volume XXIX, Issue 172, 23 July 1898, Page 1 (Supplement)

THE KLONDYKE GOLD MYSTERY.

By JOHN" R. MUSICK,

of 'Mysterious Mr Howard,' •jh e Dark Stranger,' 'Charlie Allendale's Double,' etc.

synopsis op rnrcvious instal-

In order tlint new readers of the 'Star' jnay begin with tho following instalment of this story and understand it just « Uioug-h they had rea<J U from the feeirlnninjj. w(: lu;r(! "lvo- :1 synopsis or that portion of it which lias already been uublisbed: The story opens in tho icy regions of the Yukon. Ralston, an American, who h;ifl once been a sailor, George W. Corraack. ;m adventurous Kndishman nicknamed 'Lucky Georffn.: Gid Myers. Porter Allen, known as L'.jr port, and ft youxiff follow from Vremnd, named Paul Miller, called by his companions "Crack bush,' arc mining" for cold with indifferent, success. At. last H LT«i.t discovery is nnide by l^ucky Goorge through a. tip Riven him by a 'squaw m an' named Laltimer. i'aul Miller also Struck it very rich, urid his claim turned out to be the richest on the Klondike. Paul is cmgHjjcd to bo married to a vou'hg'gTl at. his home m Kresno. He jiius a rival in Theodore .Lackland. The latter -failing in his attempt to win tho girl, resolves to have hts rival removed 'from his path.

CHAPTETI 111 (Continued)

Theodore Lackland had followed

Laura to this picnic arul into this wood with a set purpose in his heart. ■He was wealthy, a young man of good family and reputed ability, but a man of firm and fixed purpose. To accomplish an end he would go to almost, any limit. He had known Paul Miller )ong be.fOTe he set off for the Klondike, and hated him because he I a vert Laura Kean. Why should this beautiful girl, the only woman whom he had ever loved, prefer this rude, penniless country boy to himself? Lackland reasoned that he was not deformed in anyway, and the. mirror told him that his features were as regular as the average men. Ho. was by no means lideous, and in fact might be called handsome, but when he sought to win the heart of Laura Kcan lie learned that something was lacking- in. his composition. Mr Lackland failed to realise, what, so many have in this life —that it. is the soultnat attracts and not .the face and figure. There is no freemasonry so subtle as the freemasonry of the soul. When heart meets heart there needs no sign or grip for recognition. There is no truth more palpable than the truth of the heart, when it, revolt?? at certain shams. Lackland, with his wealth and haudsome. figure, was nevertheless repugnant, to Laura. There was something so repulsive in the man, notwithstanding his refinement, that she could scarce treat him civilly.

'lam pleased to see you happy. Miss Kean,' hesaid, raising his eyes upward, and gazing into the top of a tree near. 'There lias always been isometliing wrong with me, and while others are. happy I am sad.'

'Surely it. is a morbid faoey,' said Laura. The light was dying- out in her eyes. She made one quick downward look at the path, as if wishing to pass him. lie observed her glance and. said:

■p^Tio, Laura, wait a moment; T. have something of great- importance to say to you. which 1 must say now.'

Her great blue eyes growing round in. wonder she aaked:

'What is. it?'

'I have just been told that you have decided to go to Alaska in the spring.' He looked earnestly in to the girl's glowing face, and added, with deliberation:

'Laura, there are reasons why 3 rou ehoulcl not undertake that journey.'

'What reasons?' 'A million natural obstacles arc in the way.'

'If Ethel Bush can go, why not T?' He did not answer immediai-ely, but stood at the side of the. path carelessly kicking the lea.ve.s with the toe of his boot. At last, he answered:

'You go in a different manner. Then what is Ethel Bush compared with one of your fine nature? You cannot make yourself a beast of burden; then your motive in going—l know it. It Is Paul Miller. Do you love, himV

Laura started

'Do you ask?' she said. The amazement in the wide open eyes deepened to rapture. 'Love him?' she repeated. 'Better than all the world beside.' Ttie girl was lifted out, of herself.

He staggei-ed, his sallow face grew even more pale, and she. in alarru cried: 'Are you ill?'

'What difference can it make to you, Laura, or what to me? Is it possible that you have not yet read my secret?" 'What secret?' she asked, in a halftniotherecl voice.

'Laura, if your love, bad been a great W, you must have read my secret, just as I Lave read yours.' In a low ton e he continued: 'Long ago I know that you loved, or thought you loved kni] Miller. T saw it before lie did — even before you realised it.' The red glow covered her cheek more deeply" than before. She was Pflent, and he was tramping nervously backward and forward.

'Laura,' he said, fixing his eyes en-treating-ly -upon her, 'what, is the love ■that scarcely knows itself? That is *he love with which you love Paul Miller. And what is the tame passion ofamaii of no mind? That, is the; love which he offers you. What is your love for him. or his for you? Wliat is it? What can it be? Love is not love-unless it is the love of true Hiinds. That was said long ago, Xanra, and it is true to-day,' Then_ he ttent on rapidly in a tone of irritation: 'Laura. I understand you. Tt is not for a rude man like this Alaskan "•iner to do so.' Then in an eager v°ice he said: 'Dearest. I bring you a love undreamed of among such low creatures.'

'Low creatures!* she hissed, almost breathlessly. He went on: . 'Laura, dearest, there has been little >n my Uf e to sweeten it- I am notpopular among some. T'linow: yet I am a man to love and be loved. My love for you has been mute for Months, but it can be mute no longer. Perhaps I have had my own impediment, aside from your love for Paul. 3ut that is all over now.'

His cheeks quivered; his lips trembled"; his voice swelled, while his nervous fingers were riveted 1o his palm. He approached her and took her hand. 8h c seemed benumbed by the feeling. St >c stood as one transfixed, a slow Paralysis of surprise taking hold of •"er faculties. But at his touch her Senses regained their mastery. She fring- away his hand. Her breast heaved. In a voice charged with indignation she said: 'So this is what you mean! I understand you at last!' , „ tj j,i-xu~ •-._.

pSt^S^ a pace. B "t she had Z^T me a^ain!' 'Sir, you hay, ♦ her voice at la^. Paulpaul MiUe? s wif™ at this moment speak; mean y OU uvl™ ' n°wl- know h™ •Stow* 0 in Passionately: ».er?abh!"s C oT n I'" With a look <* slant.' here • you st«u<* this inffb^«*!'"COlitrolf he cried: ' x raish'i^ol^^^-^^'^iclLaurn, and .1,1. , , lt JS a spurious draft, ami o- ot s biU . k disbonoured.' tnl rSn 3 Laf:kl^' felt his solf-eon-he -h't 1 y- Slippin -"' :wa -V' and in the iitifflit ol bis passion said: • t-, t r SW°ar it! J liold .V°'"----m, I. his, in m>' liantJ. and have Sw nayk 7»Ot cni?Wnß you than you s I [u o 15? St;nsible; rocall your indo wr n"' iy °v nhflt im P«*.unio,i S ne'er, d -wcll-a hulking brute, made for a pick-axe and shove] ' m'u-!^ Uffh!' T he eriod- ' J Would rathei * m«ri7 a plough-boy than such a gentleman" as you.!' JiVe to face, eye to eye, with panting breath and scornful looks, there TJiey stood for one 'moment; then Laura, without a word, swung about and walked away to where, her friends wore preparing to return to town. Hie features of Theodore Lackland iirioV.rvyiuit R frightful change. The gathering- thunder cloud was not more l>laek than his face. He raised his clenched list to heaven and cursed hia rival, heedless of the rolling thunder ami on-coming storm.

It is a long way to the Klondike,' he finally muttered, while the smile of a devil tlil.ted over his face; 'but, great, as the distance is, he will fed my power, and so shall she.'

A heavy peal of thunder and the falling' of rain roused him to the fact that the little excursion had all gone, leaving- him alone in the woods and storm. TT c hurried to where his horse and buggy where, and, leaping in, drove furiously to town. He took the train that night, to San Francisco and spent the whole day in consultation with two ill-favoured looking- men. In a few weeks Laura had forgotten the unpleasant scene with the wealthy Mr Lackland. She, was busy preparing for the journey in the spring. Mrs Miller, Paul's mother, at first tried to dissuade her from the mad undertaking, but when she discovered how completely the. poor girl's heart was set on going, she offered no furtherobjection. They held many little pleasant conversations, in which the mother sent innumerable greetings to her loved son far off in the cold arctic regions. Many pleasant little surprises were planned by the two, and they smiled at the dumbfounded, yet happy, lover on meeting his betrothed when and where he least expected.

.Spring was approaching, and Laura was busy assisting- Ethel in her preparations for the wedding and journey. Clarence drew all his money from the bank early in January, went to San Francisco and purchased their outfit and transportation to Juneau.

Laura, was supremely happy. Another letter had been received from her lover, in which he. wrote in glowing terms of the gold diggings, and assured his mother and betrothed he would leave before next season closed. As the Chilkoot Pass would soon close, he warned them not to expect letters from him that month. If an opportunity offered he would send them another, yet not to expect it. 'Oh, the dear darling! Won't he be mad with joy when he finds me at his camp.' said Laura to Mrs Miller. 'Yes, dear; 1 am sorry I cannot be at the wedding, but if you and Paul choose an iceberg for a marriage altar, why, you will have to excuse me; I can't attend.'

Laura laughed and kissed her intended mother-in-law, assuring her they would hurry home for her blessing soon after the marriage. Father William" Duncan, the pious Alaskan missionary, was chosen as the officiating clergyman, and the simple bridal wardrobe was being made. It was the last of February, and on, the next day Laura was to draw her money from thesavings bank and put it in 'the hands of a friend to secure her a passage, and outfit for the Klondike Late in the afternoon she saw a oreat crowd of men on the street talking in an excited manner, and a moment later Mr O'Burne, the butcher, came running toward her, wringing his hands. •What is the matter, Mr O'Burne? she asked. 'We are ruined, Miss Kean; we are ruined. The savings bank has failed; can't pay a cent!' She crew dizzy, and clutched at the door for support, • Quickly all Mr bright dreams of surprising her lover vanished. ~ Mrs Miller consoled her with the assurance that the loss would be made un by the great fortune Paul was taking from tie Klondike. A few days later she learned that the bank had been wrecked by Mr Tom Hams, the cashier, speculating on San Francisco Board of Trade. Later came the whisper that Harris had fled to avoid Arrest but before going had confessed his crime, and said that he was induced by Mr Lackland to speculate He went on the wrong side of the "^d^ ? ESS? wedding was drawing near, and Laura had been crying all the day because she could not go with the party. , The evening post brought her a Jet flllfe lona-and with many *W«X white, she shrieked: 'W Olin ded. robbed, ruined!' and fell senseless to the floor.

CHAPTER IV. JOURNEY TO THE KLONDYKE Ethel Bush, learning of her fnend s trouble, hastened to see Laura who sank so rapidly under the double blow that she was confined to her beT am so sorry you cannot go with us Laurn.' said EtLl, 'And now that poor ran has met with a misfortune P% keep him several months longer away, it js J ""•*„, Wat: Paul seriously wounded/ 'He wrote it was not dangerous,

tlie girl answered sadly. 'He was ; stabbed in the shoulder' and received a bullet in the arm, and even with these he would have driven off the robbers if some one had not got bej hind him and struck him a blow on the head. Paul is very strong and brave.' I 'How many were the robbers in number?' Ethel asked. 'There were four. He wounded one, and had not his pistol missed fire would hny e killed or driven them all away. The man who was wounded was recognized as a ruffian who has for a long- time been seen ahout San Fraueiseo. 'How did the robbery happen, Laura?' 'I'aul's claim was some distance away, and he was living alone in his shanty. These rascals had for some time been wak-hing him, and one night, attacked him,' and he lost all he had laboured so hard to obtain.' Laura broke down and wept. Kthel tried to console her. 'Don't worry, dear. We shall soon be with Paul, and if I find him I will nurse him. back to health, and Clarence will defend him if he is attacked until he is able to defend himself.' 'Will yon take a message to him from me, Ethel?' 'Yes, dear, a thousand.' 'Only one. 1 can sum it all up in a single sentence.' 'What is it, dear?' 'Tell him T love him and pray for him always; and will seek him out in the wilderness as soon as I can.' 'Won't that alarm him. The knowledge that you alone are making your way over the terrible Chilkoot will fill his soul with such dread he cau have no pea.ee:' 'Then- don't, tell him, Ethel. Tell him that which will encourage him and no more.' Again Laura broke down and sobbed convulsively for several moments. At last, seizing her friend's hand, she said: 'Warn him, >Ethel; warn him!' 'Of whom or what, shall I warn him, dear?.' 'Of Theodore Lackland. He is our evil genius.' 'Surely you have cause to dread him.' 'It was on his advice the bank was wrecked, and T lost all.' 'Yes, but it might have been a business mistake.' 'No, no, no. ' Theodore Lackland made no business mistake. He planned it for a purpose, and that purpose was our ruin.' 'T fear you wrong- Mr Lackland.' 'No, no; he threatened me last autumn when v, Te were up the valley to the picnic. 1-forgot it at the time, but it. is all very fresh and vivid to my mind now.' Ethel remained with her for over two hours and spoke encouragingly, then left urging her to recover her strength and spirits in time for the wedding. For some time Laura seemed sinking, but by superhuman effort she recovered rapidly, and by the 10th of March could announce she would be able to attend the wedding. She was all eagerness to get her friends away, and told Ethel-a hundred" times that she must write just as soon as she reached the Klondyke and tell her how her lover was.

'I have not heard from him for so ]ong- that I fear he is worse or dead.' kl)on't forget, dear, that the Chilkoot Pass is blocked with snow, and it is not often one can get across it.' 'Yes, yes; T know, I know!' 'Be patient and all will be well.' Ethel seemed very brave and to hare no dread of the dangers which lay between her. and the Klondyke.

Four great demons were said to be guarding the gold in Alaska. They were Hardship; Suffering, Ice and Starvation. Many wondered how this little'girl and her lover dared face all these dangers. Ethel smiled and said that Clarence was strong and brave; he loved her and would protect her from greater dangers than the northern weather. These demons of the Chilkoot Pass would shrink from before the glance of her lover and lose all terrors.

'Fortunes come only to the brave,' she said with a sweet smile on her Clarence. 'I would not love one who would not, brave dangers for me, and I would not permit one whom I loved to face those dangers alone.'

Clarence lierry was all his affianced represented him to be—brave, honest and determined.

For downright luck and pluck the bridal trip of Clarence Berry was without parallel. On the day he and sweet Ethel Bush were married they were poor in everything but luck, pluck and faith in their future. Their woi-ldly possessions consisted of just enough to pay their passage to San Francisco, thence to Juneau, and on to Forty-Mile Camp, and provide themselves with the necessary stores for a year. It was a rough start in life, but this young couple were no dreamers of fortune. They had those elements of character that conquer under the hardest conditions. They were prepared to literally force open the fingers of the reluctant, land of fortune, and make her yield her golden wealth. They were ready to face hardships and 'rough it' together. Between them and the Yukon was a long, weary journey, full of perils by land and sea. The journey to Juneau would be easy enough, but beyond that point it would be difficult and dangerous. They had carefully considered every danger, counted every cost, and were prepared to take the risk. On the evening of the 14th of March Ethel called on her friend to spend an hour; her lover was to call for her later and conduct her home. ' 'Everything is packed,dear Laura, said Ethel with a smile. 'We shall start the day after to-morrow for San Francisco.' A tear trickling silently down -Laura's cheek caused her friend to pause, and in an altered tone add: 'Why, Laura, if it is a painful subject to you, we will change it.' 'No no, no, Ethel, I would not have the subject changed for anything. I wanted to talk with you of your journey.' 'Yet our near departure makes your disappointment more keenly felt,' said Ethel. 'Yet I must talk with you. I must send one last message, one fond kiss to him who lies suffering in the wilderness of the Klondyke.'

'Will vou-be able to attend the wedding ceremonies to-morrow?' 'Oh, yes, I shall go. I must go. I know you will look very sweet in your pretty robes, with your brave young husband at your side.'

There were some inclined to make sport of the idea of the lovers choosing the Klondyke for their wedding tour, and many prophesied they would abandon the journey before their marriage day. 'You don't know Clarence Berry as well as lido,' Mr Martin Gross, a gentleman -who lived in the town declared. 'I tell you he is not one to do

much idle talk. He's a man that means every word he says.' j On the fifteenth they were married at the pretty little church in|Fresno, and their friends in great liumbers gathered about them to congratulate them and bid them a tearful adieu. There was sadness mingled with, the joy of the occasion, and iftany of Ethel's friends feared they were gazing on her face for the last tiuie. Oue incautious old lady remarked:!;

'Oh, so fair to become food'!;for the bears and wolves o£ Alaska.' She caught herself, however, and [became silent. Those who heard her pretended not to do so. | Kext day the bride and groOm took their departure for Sari Fr(incisco. Laura imprinted a kiss on tha young bride's lips and whispered: { 'Give it to him! Oh, I-wishm could go with you!' I They went to San IVanciscot where they met the remainder of their party bound for the Klondyke. Among the party was a tall young- fellow'named Dick .Ronald, from Seattle, whp from his height soon acquired the;, sobriquet of Long Dick. He was a jolly, whole-souled fellow, as daring as any, good-hearted and possessing- a fund of humour which made him the life of the camp. j

He had a dialect of his own, in which Western lingo and .Bowery slang were badly intermixed. Had he taken to the pen, Dick would, have made a, capital paragrapher. .There were half a dozen other men, some young and -sonic middle-aged, but Ethel was the only lady in the party bound for the frozen north.

Many of their friend accompanied them as far as San Francisco. We pass over the parting tears and sighs, hopes and prayers which continued for many long, weary months. The voyage and journey to Juneau was made without any unusual discomfort, but from that on it became perilous and every mile marked with danger.

Their journey over the snow and ice is not likely to be forgotten in a lifetime. It was during- that journey Clarence Berry realised tq the full extent the heroism and fortitude of his young wife. They engag-ed some Indians as guides and an Esquimaux with the euphonious name of Umstich, which Long- Dick translated for convenience into 'Hemstitch.'

'It is more easily understood, and in keeping with his toed-in eyes,' Dick explained. Umstich was engaged as a sort of general superintendent of the dogs and sleds, of whioh they had several to convey themselves and packs across the bleak, white deserts, the dog being the only animal capable of making those journeys in all weather.

The dog- sled consisted of a narrow box four feet long, the front half being covered or boxed in, mounted on a floor eight feet long-, resting on runners. In this box sat the passengers, muffled in robes of fur so closely that moving was next to impossible, tho head and shoulders only projecting. In front and behind and on the top was placed all the luggage, covered with canvas and securely lashed to Withstand the jolting and possible upsets. The snowshoes were also placed within easy reach.

When Ethel Berry first emerged from the warm room at Junean to take her place in the dog sled for her long and perilous journey, it was like entering upon a new world. A score of dogs were barking- and yelping in their eagerness to be off. The earth was covered with snow as far as she .could see. The frosty morning-" air*was biting cold, but seemed invigorating, arid, she was really anxious to be off. 'Come, dear; here is your sled,' said Clarence, taking her to the largest sled, to which eleven snow-white clogs were attached. He placed her on the sled, carefully tucked her in, put a pair of blue goggles over her eyes to protect them from the glare of the sun on the snow. A veil was then pulled over her face, a hood drawn close over her head and a large woollen scarf wound about her neck and face.

An important item for such a journey is the dog whip, terrible to the dog if used by a skilful hand, and equally terrible to the user if he be a novice, who is sure to half strangle himself ,or cut .his own face with the business end of the lash. The average dog whip has a handle nine inches long, with a lash of thirty feet. The lash is of folded and plaited seal hide, and for live feet from the handle measures five inches round: then for fourteen feet it gradually tapers, ending in a single thong half an inch thick and eleven feet long. The dexterity with which the Esquimaux driver cou]d pick out any dog in his team, and almost any spot on the dog with the lash was wonderful. The lash trailed out full length behind, when a jerk and turn of the wrist caused it to fly forward, the thick part first and tne tapering end continuing the motion until it was full length in front, the lash making- the fur fly from the yelping victim. Often the Esquimaux cracked his whip over their backs to stimulate them to renewed energy.

Eleven dogs were harnessed to a sled, each by a separate thong of seal hide, all of different lengths, fastened to a light canvas harness. The nearest dog was about fifteen feet from the sled, and the leader, ornamented with little bells, about fifty feet, the thongs thus increasing a little over three feet. When the surface was smooth, the dogs spread out like the lingers of a hand, but where the snow was deep and soft'they fell' into'each other's tracks, and the thongs became gradually plaited almost up to the rearmost dog. When a halt was made the dogs were made to lay down, and the driver carefully disentangled them, taking care that no dog got away. Umstitch, the Esquimaux, when travelling, guided the dogs by his voice, vising the low, guttural tones characteristic of his race. When he wished them to go to the right he cried 'Owk!' To go to the left he shouted 'Arrah!' To go straight on he called 'Holt!' Often one, of the Indians ran ahead on snow-shoes, and the clogs followed.

The accommodations for the young bride were poor, but Clarence did the very best he couJd for her. They carried a stove and tent, and, every nig-ht the latter was pitched in some spot where the snow was hard. Beds of boughs were made, and Ethel was wrapped in fur.s until there was little chance for her to suffer from cold. She rode all the way from Juneau to the mining camp well muffled in bearskin robes and furs, strapped on a sled or boat as the case might be, and while this method of travel was much better than walking, the uncertainty of her position made it anything but comfortable.

One of the greatest difficulties they had to encounter was the ; indistinct* ness of the trail. The snow fell so heavily, and the wind blew so high that it frequently happened they were only able to follow the trail with the greatest difficulty. They reached the summit of the terrible Chilkoot Pass, four thousand one hundred feet above sea level, at Dica, in the midst of a terrific snow-

storm, such as frequently rages on this pass in the spring of the year, endangering the lives of many who attempt to g-o over it. The blindingsnow made it extremely dangerous to attempt the descent from the mountain toward Lake Linderman, the headwaters of the Yukon River. To make matters worse, the clouds set down on the mountain top, and they dared not leave the camp for more than a few hundred feet for fear they might lose their footing- and be plunged over a precipice or into some yawning chasm in the mountain. A single misstep meant death. With their shovels they .dug a hole in the snow and ice and spread a tent over it, placing bags and supplies on the edges of it to weigh it clown, so the iierce wind would not carry it away. Their supper that night consisted of a cup of tea and a few crumbs of bread. A separate apartment was made by arranging packs and sleds for Ethel, and then all muffled themselves in blankets and furs and lay down to listen to the howling of the Alaskan storm, which seemed to shake the great mountain with its violence.

Great glaciers were sleeping all around them, but there was little sleep for the weary travellers that night. Even the glaciers seemed eudowed with fits of wakediulness, for ever and anon they heard a crackling sound, followed by a noise as of crashing thunder, and ten tons of sleeping giants were precipitated from the mountain heights and shattered into icy diamonds to feed the roaring torrents in.the chasms far below.

CHAPTER V.

PAUL'S DISCOVERY.

It is essential at this point in our story to return to the Klondyke. It is again night, and the little camp on the densely wooded stream is wild with excitement and confusion.

The camp has increased in size since we were last there. Fully a score of men have drifted into it and staked out claims. Valuable mines abound everywhere, and in the language of some old miners one has only to drive a pick in the earth to tap a fortune.

There was great excitement at the camp on this particular night. Men were hurrying to and fro and giving utterance to angry exclamations. Among the most excited was our old friend Gid Myers. Gid had a rope in his hand, and was gesticulating wildly toward a cabin that had been erected on the banks of. the stream, around which stood four or live men with rifles in their hands.

iN'o wonder the gold diggers were excited. A terrible crime had been committed in their little community. It was the first that had ever been known on the Klondyke, and those hardy frontiersmen felt like wreaking vengeance upon the perpetrators. 'I tell ye, boys, we ought to make a holy example o' that precious rascal in yonder shanty. We have found gold here by the million o' dollars, an' when we thought we had an honest community four thieves pounce upon us, rob one o' us, an' almost kill him. Now let's hang the feller Crack Lash wounded!'

Them's my sentiments!' piped in a man with a sharp, shrill voice. 'Hang him up an' be done with him.' 'Wait, boys,' cautioned Ghim Ralston, who had listened to the harangue of Girl Myers. 'This chap what got a little more lead in his skin than he ealkerkited on ain't goin' t' git away. I tcltye Nvo.'s. kinder tied up for a ft\w weeks, an'--' Tie him up by the neck,' interrupted one of the bystanders.

\Shet up ye.r mouth, Hi Bunce; it ain't, time fur you t,' put your oar in. Wait until I tack on th' win'ard side an' git the breeze so I kin slip my idees into port. Tsow, I jist believe in h'istin' this feller who wounded Paul t' the yardarm o 1 some tree just as much as any o' ye, but I want t' git all out o' him before. I tell ye that robbery warn't done by accident. Tt warn't' planned in a minnit neither--' 'Now yer shoutin', comrade,' put in a grizzled veteran. 'We've got. one on 'em wounded, an' lets make most out o' him we kin afore we let him go.' Some of the moire excitable began to murmur at delay, but others cried:

'Wait, hold on! Listen to what (Hum Ealston says.' 'What I wuz a-goin' to say is this,' continued Glum Ealston. 'If we go on an'hang him we destroy all chance o' ever gittin' at the bottom o\ this eussednesa. If we keep him he will tell wh.ar th' wealth is likely to be hid an' wbar we'd be most likely t' lay hands on them other cusses.'

'Now old Glum is talkin' sense, boys.'

'Course I am. I don't talk nuthin' else,' declared Ealston. 'Let's not go an' act like a hull passel o' fools as don't know what we're a-doin' nohow. Save him an' we'll git Crack Lash's dust back an' we'll hang all four together; you all know that's much better'n hangin' one at a time.' The life of the captive was spared for the time being, and the miners proceeded at once to organize themselves into a vigilance committee, preparatory to stopping crime at the very beginning iv their new settlement.

Lying" on a low couch in one of the shanties was the hero of this story, known on the Klondyke as Crack Lash Paul. His wounds were severe, and he was in a feverish condition. No doubt his anxiety at the loss of his fortune which his luck and pluck had enabled him to wrench from the icy grasp of the frost icing of the Klondyke had much to do in retarding his speedy recovery. On this particular day he was in a fever.- One of/the miners who had some knowledge of medicine and surgery had extracted the ball and dressed the wounds. The name of the doctor will perhaps never be known. In the Klondyke he was only called 'Sawbones.'

'The patient's face was flushed and his eyes closed. His quick breathing and nervous movements indicated that he suffered mentally as well as physically. 'Hold them! Hold them!' he murmured. 'It is not my gold. Take my life if you wish it, but the gold belongs to Laura and mother! They shall have it, I came to the Klondyke to get it from them —no, no, the villains shall not rob them! Oh, save it! Save it!'

'Be quiet,' whispered 'Sawbones' in the ear of his patient. 'Here, take this.' He raised the head of the wounded youth and gave him a spoonful of nerve-quieting medicine. He drank it off. and then lay back on his bed and slept. The doctor arose from the low stool at the side of the couch and went out.

He saw the miners scattering about the camp, evidently going to their various shanties. He quickly turned his gaze toward every projecting branch within rang-e of his vision. A look of disappointment came over Ms face, as his eyes searched in vain

for some object. _ ' < 'What have you done with him?' \ he asked of a miner who was going 1 by. "'Nothin',' was the answer. 'What, hain't you hung him yet?' ] 'No.' • 1 'Why?' i 'Glum Ralston said not.' ; 'What's the matter with Glum? « Has he got bats in his belfry?' roared j the -infuriated doctor. % ; 'Hold on Sawbones; don't get oft' t your trolly until somethin's on the track. I tell ye Glum's all light.' He then proceeded to explain matters to the irate^ doctor, assuring him that he would yet have the satisfaction of seems? the robber lifted hig-h enough to got a bird's-eye view of the new Jerusalem, but explained that in order to get the others they must keep the powers of speech in the one they had. 'Well, with that explanation I cave in,' growled Sawbones. 'But 1 don't ( want any feelin' o' sentimentality roaming around this camp. We don't come of a forgivin' stock, we don't. The patient slept for several hours, and when lie awoke as evening began to draw near he was much improved. His temperature was reduced, and Sawbones was complimented on his skill in surgery, and became the: greatest man on'the Klondyke. < 'He's goin' to pass through all < right, boys,' said the doctor. 'His 1 memory begins to register agin, an* he takes somethin' in.' Paul had been laying a long time on the coach looking into vacancy, , but when the doctor spoke he turned his eyes on him and asked: 'How long since this happened?' 'It's bin goin' on two weeks.' He put his hand to his head and said: _ '1 cannot think clear yet. There, is a mist before my mind. Did 1 write a letter?' 'Yes.' ' x 'Has it gone?' 'Certainly,' the doctor answered. 'You wrote a few lines to some one in i Fresno and addressed it before your fever came up. We sent it by a courier a week ago.' 'Could it be recalled?' he asked after a moment's hesitation. 'It's too late now if he has crossed the pass.' Paul gave vent to a groan and whispered: , '1 have* frightened them—caused them useless annoyance. I wish 1 had not done it.' 'Well I thought myself you were a little nutty at the time you did it, but didn't dream any harm would be done, so we let him go. Ten chances to one he don't cross the pass this winter.' , , This was a relief to the wounded man, and from that on he began to speculate on the chances of the letter he sent reaching Laura. He recovered slowly, and so did the prisoner. The Litters wound, how- . ever, was more severe than. Pauls, , and for a time his case seemed doubtful The doctor, impressed' with the hope that some information would be obtained from the wounded man, used ■ his skill to the utmost to bring about a speedy recovery. . , When' Paul was able to walk about he insisted on going to his shanty to investigate it. The building had not been opened since the night he was dragged out of it, wounded and bleeding, by his friends. ? I must go and see if anything is left,' he declared. , ■; 'Well', Crack Lash, you are rather weak,' said the doctor. 'I don't know that T ought to let you do it.' '1 will do it,' he said in a voice of such firm determination that the doctor dared not interpose further objections. He went to his shanty' though he. was so weak he had to sit down on a sluice box to rest before he approached the door. The valley below him presented an animated sight. Down the stream as far as his eye could reach were men digging with pick and shovel, while the thunder of the cradle could | Ibe hoard along the line of claims. In ! a dozen places the flashing sunlight gleamed from the piles of yellow ore heaped up along the stream He ! sighed when he saw the wealth, and j thought of the good old text: 'Lay up your treasures m heaven, where, thieves do not break through and steal.' A. man was approaching him. It was Gid Myers. 'Hello, Crack Lash, old boy, how r ye gittin', any way?' cried Gid, haltin"- near with a pick on his shoulder. Ir I am much better, Gid. How is the prisoner?' , 'He's gittin' on right smart, an will soon be strong enough to wear a hemp necktie.' 'No, no, Gid, not that. INot until w e try to recover what they stole and o-et our hands on the others.' 'Well, we kinder thought we'd wait until we got all the information he had, an' then we'd make it kinder tough on him. What ye doin up hyar, Crack Lash?' 'I came to look the place over and see if they had left anything.' 'No, they didn't, but yer claims rich an' as soon as yer able to use pick and pan yell hey as much gold as ye want.' 'It is not the pain nor the toil ot accumulating more, Gid, that makes me heartsick,' the young miner answered. 'It is the long delay, the period of waiting which must follow: Then the anxiety of those at home must be so great as to almost drive them insane.' 'Why don't you write 'em? '1 have, but no communication will o-et through Chilkoot Pass for several mouths. At this season, you know, it must be impossible.' When he had rested sufficiently, he arose and, unlocking the door, entered the shanty. It still bore some evidences of conflict. There were bullet holes in the walls, and the glass of a small hand mirror shattered in the affray was scattered about the room. He searched the room carefully for some clue that might have been dropped by one of the attacking party after they entered the room, but for a long time found none. At last he discovered in a narrow crack between the logs and chinking what seemed to be a bit of paper wadded up and thrust into the hole. He went to it, pulled it out and it proved to be an envelope stained with blood. The envelope was stuck in the crack near the corner where the wounded outlaw had fallen and Paul at once surmised he put it there. It was wrinkled and soiled, as if it had been stuffed into the narrow aperture for concealment. He took the paper out of the envelope and gazed at the handwriting in amazement. It ran as follows: San Francisco, Sept. 1, 1895. Inclosed find transportation .and money sufficient to pay your way to Juneau. Whatever you do, remember that Paul Miller is not to return to Fresno. Do him no harm if you

can accomplish your ends without violence, but at all hazards keep him two years longer in the Klondyke. L. T.

He read the mysterious paper again. He turned it over and looked on the back. Who was 'L. T.,' and why should he wish to keep him in Alaska? There seemed to be something slightly familiar about the chirography, but he was not certain. Having a clue to this mystery, he sat down to study the puzzle.

(To be Continued.)