ra good find had
been made on Hunker Creek caused many to strike out during the night to
make new claims in that vicinity.

"Let us go, too!" cried Randy, and Earl joined in; but the men talked it
over and decided to remain in Dawson City until they learned more about
the "lay of the land." They pitched their tent as close to where their
boat lay as possible, but it is doubtful if any of the party slept
through that short night, which had hardly anything of darkness.

All told, there were not over six hundred white men in camp, and, in
addition, there were perhaps a hundred Indians, with their squaws,
children, and dogs; for no Alaskan Indian family is complete without
from one to a half-dozen canines attached. The Indians were there to
sell fish and game, and to pick up odd jobs of pack-carrying. They took
but little interest in the gold strikes, and it was but rarely that they
could be found mining, and then never for themselves.

One of the first lessons to be learned by the boys and the others, was
that of keeping their outfits intact. Hardly were they up in the
morning than a dozen miners and prospectors came shuffling around
offering them various prices for this and that. Had they been willing to
sell, they could have disposed of all they possessed by noon, but,
cautioned by Foster Portney, they were firm, and nothing was allowed to
change hands but a small bottle of cough syrup which the doctor sold for
an ounce of gold, worth sixteen dollars, to a poor fellow suffering with
a slight attack of pneumonia. The doctor wanted no pay, but the miner
insisted on giving it, saying he would pay a thousand dollars if the
physician would make him as well and strong as ever again.

After many careful inquiries, it was decided that the party should first
try its luck on Gold Bottom Creek, at some spot near to where the
watercourse was joined by Hunker and Last Chance creeks. They had
learned that while Bonanza and El Dorado creeks were paying well, all
the best claims in those localities were already staked out.

Two days later found them encamped at the entrance to a tiny
watercourse, which flowed into Gold Bottom Creek. They had come in from
the Klondike with their outfits on their backs and half a dozen Indians
to aid them, for the trail was over rough rocks and through lowlands of
berry bushes and tundra,--a wearisome walk which to Randy, at least,
seemed to have no end. Often they sank up to their knees in the muck a