CHAPTER TEN
Up the River

August 7, 1900

Sally and I were ready to set out at midday, laden with supplies. My harness was heavy, packed with two rolled up oilcloths, netting, a rope, a scoop, a mining pan, a frying pan, and a lantern. Sally carried food, fishing gear, utensils, matches, candles, a wool blanket, Grimm’s Fairy Tales, and clothing in a canvas pack on her back. She had mittens and jacket looped over her belt, as well as a knife in a sheath. Gone were her pinafore, bonnet, and boots. Instead she wore mukluks, leggings under her skirt, and a brimmed hat onto which she had sewn mosquito netting. Sally left a letter for Mama and we headed up the beach.

Mama had not changed her mind about leaving Nome. In the last two days Sally had packed bit by bit in secret whenever Mama was at work, and each time I tried on my harness, it grew heavier and heavier.

We both banged and clattered as we walked to the dock that jutted into the Snake River where it met the Bering Sea. There we climbed into a boat pulled by a team of four dogs. The dogs clambered along the riverbank, occasionally splashing in the water while a boatman stood in the bow, using a long pole to keep the hull in deeper water and away from the shore. There were many barrels and crates on the boat, but no other passengers.

“Where are you and your dog headed, miss?” the boatman asked after introducing himself as Mr. Lindblom. “You appear to be packed for a long trip.”

“As far as we can go upriver,” Sally said. “Where is your last stop?”

“Usually two miles inland,” he told her. “That’s where I drop the last supplies.”

“I would like to pay you to go beyond that spot—as far as you can.” She held several coins out to him.

Staring at the coins, Mr. Lindblom raised one brow. “Does your papa know you are out and about on your own?”

“Thank you for your concern.” Sally sounded as grown-up as Mama. “I am heading upriver to my father’s mining camp now. And I am not alone.” She draped her arm over my neck. “I have Murphy.”

“Your papa’s beyond Point Crossing?” he asked.

Sally nodded. “Yes. It will be a hike from there, and my dog and I would be grateful for a boat ride as far as possible.”

“We-l-l-l…” He scratched under his sweaty hat as he thought. “The river is high, but as soon as the bottom of the boat scrapes, I will have to let you off on shore.”

“Thank you, sir.”

For a few minutes the boat surged up the Snake, with only the noise of the barking dogs filling the air. The shore was dotted with signs of miners—piles of rubble, rusting machines, broken pilings—but few men were working. Sally kept her arm around my neck. I leaned against her and felt her tremble. Was she as worried as I about this strange journey?

I began to pant. The day had warmed and I was hot under my harness. As if Sally understood, she loosened the straps and let the harness fall to the bottom of the boat.

“Not many miners up the Snake,” Mr. Lindblom said. “Most are on Anvil or Dexter Creeks where the richest placer claims have been found. Although McKenzie and Carlick have two large mines upriver. Your pa with them?”

“No, sir.”

“That’s good. Best to steer clear of anyone from Alaska Gold Mining Company. Heard there’s trouble coming for that lawless crew.”

Sally’s arm tightened around me. “What kind of trouble?”

“Owners of Pioneer and Wild Goose Mining have hired lawyers to stop McKenzie, Carlick, and Judge Noyes from stealing claims. The law is slow, though, so in the meantime, that crooked bunch is gutting as many mines of gold as they can.”

The boatman called to his dogs, and then added, “My uncle was one of the three Swedes to discover gold in the area.”

“That’s so interesting. Did he get rich?”

Lindblom snorted. “He left Nome poor. Judge Noyes changed the law, saying a foreigner couldn’t file a proper claim. He evicted my uncle and other rightful owners and gave the claims to McKenzie and his bunch. The only gold I’ll ever earn is ferrying the men who swindled my own kin.”

As we approached a huge mine with machinery that rose into the sky, Mr. Lindblom shouted to his dogs to whoa. Pausing at a planked area on the shore, he dropped off several crates.

Two men came down to help. They stared at Sally. Quickly she turned her back on them. “Look, Murphy,” she whispered. “The sign says ‘Alaska Gold Mining Company. No Trespassing.’ This must be McKenzie and Carlick’s mine.”

Carlick. I had already heard that name too many times today.

“I did not dare file a claim in case Mama got wind of it,” she continued in a low voice, “so we will try to travel far beyond any established mines. I do not want to encounter an angry prospector.”

The boatman clicked and the team started off again. I noticed how well he cared for his dogs. During the trip they had frequents rests, pats, and treats. Not all masters were like Carlick.

As we floated northward, signs of active mines disappeared and we mostly passed piles of rusting and rotting equipment. We saw a small Native village of scattered tents, then a herd of elk, and then nothing but stretches of tundra. When we neared a spot where stunted pines drooped over the water, the boatman called to his dogs.

“Far as I can go, miss,” he said, rapping the end of the pole on the bottom of the river. “Rocks are ready to rip open my hull and the current is wearing out my team.”

“Yes, sir!” Sally hurriedly reattached my harness and I leaped from the boat, causing it to sway. “Thank you!”

Mr. Lindblom helped Sally off the boat. “Good luck on your journey, miss. I hope your father appreciates your effort.” Then he pointed his finger at her. “And tell your father to stay away from McKenzie, Carlick, and his bunch.”

“I will.” Sally scrambled up the river bank, with me after her, and waved goodbye.

Mr. Lindblom whistled and called to his dogs as he turned them around. Sally and I watched the boat float quickly from sight, the current pushing them. Then suddenly it was silent except for the rustle of the river.

The tundra stretched in all directions without a house, tent, or tree rising into the sky. Wildflowers and grasses blew in the breeze. It was beautiful, vast, and quiet.

I sniffed the clean air. I was glad to be away from Nome and the clanking and crashing of the people, the machinery, and the sea. Beside me, I felt Sally shudder.

“It’s just us now, Murphy,” she whispered. “We are truly on our own.”

Whining, I butted my head against her side. Was it worry I heard in her voice? Did she want to turn back?

Then she whooped excitedly. “Oh, Murphy, I have been waiting for this adventure since we arrived from San Francisco!” she exclaimed. “Come on, let’s find our camp—and our gold!”

We hiked through squishy bogs and over drier hillocks. Sometimes we followed a trail well worn by other prospectors and animals. Sometimes we slogged through thick mud and brush. Sally wore her mask of netting, but mosquitoes stung my nose until she greased it with lard.

We kept the river in sight, only leaving it twice when we heard voices. There were gold seekers even this far upland, and Sally was determined not to meet them and their nosy questions.

At one point the trail followed a ridge cut into the bank. Sally had to sidestep to keep from pitching over the small cliff, which sloped down to the river. I followed her, my claws scrabbling at the dirt to keep from sliding too. Once we had reached the other side, Sally out a relieved breath. By then the sky was turning gray.

“Let’s camp here tonight, Murphy.” She dropped her pack to the ground and unstrapped my harness. I shook, glad to be rid of the burden.

We ate cold beans and biscuits for dinner. Then Sally wrapped herself in the blanket and oilcloth and promptly fell asleep. I lay down beside her, head perched on my paws, and kept watch.

The next day, we again hiked for miles. Finally Sally stopped at a bend in the river, where a brushy willow hung over a shallow, sandy pool. Firewood was scattered nearby, and weeds had started to grow again in what had been a cleared area. Someone must have camped here.

A breeze blew, scattering the mosquitoes. Behind us, ptarmigan sounded their throaty calls.

“What do you think, Murphy?” Sally asked.

I whacked my tail heartily, ready to stop.

“I think we’re far enough away from Carlick and his crew. We’ll camp here tonight and see if it suits.”

After Sally took off my harness, I waded in the river. The water cooled my tired paws, and I drank greedily.

Sally waded in beside me, her feet bare. “Brrr! It’s cold. Look!” she said. “Black sand under my toes. Surely we can find some gold in it. Perhaps the miner panning here before us is now living in a castle.”

Giggling, she splashed me. I kicked up great waves with my back legs, splashing her back. Then I saw a large flash of silver dart from under a rock. I lunged, catching a good-size salmon in my jaws. It twisted, but I kept hold. I was hungry.

“What a mighty hunter you are, Murphy!” Sally exclaimed. “If salmon and black sand are in this pool, it will be a good place to stay. I’ll get a fire started.”

As Sally gathered the wood strewn on the shore, she began to sing, the words filling the air with her happiness.

But as the sun dropped, my ears began to pick up the sounds of the night. Sally could not hear the distant howls, snorts, and yips, but I did. My journey from Dawson City had taught me that the land was filled with wolves, bear, and fox.

I wasn’t a mighty hunter. But I hoped that I could keep Sally safe in the wilds of the tundra.