omen of the party did
the cooking in tents while men gathered wood, built fires, and brought
water. Other men worked steadily at the hauling, and most of their
supplies had already been transported to the upper camp; when there
occurred a tragedy so frightful as to make itself a part of
never-to-be-forgotten Alaskan history.

It was on Sunday, and a snow storm was raging, but the weather was warm.
Hundreds of people thronged the trails both going up and coming down the
mountain in their effort to quickly transport their outfits over to the
other side, and thus make the best possible time in reaching the gold
fields. Here a difference of opinion arose among the people of our
Seattle party, for some, more daring than the others, wished to push on
over the summit regardless of the storm; while the more cautious ones
demurred and held back, thinking it the part of discretion to wait for
better weather. A few venturesome ones kept to their purpose and started
on ahead, promising to meet the laggards at Lake Bennett with boats of
their own making in which to journey down the river and lakes to Dawson.

Their promises were never fulfilled.

While they, in company with hundreds of others as venturesome, trudged
heavily up the narrow trail, a roar as of an earthquake suddenly sounded
their death-knell. Swiftly down the mountain side above them tore the
terrible avalanche, a monster formation of ice, snow and rock, the
latter loosened and ground off the face of old Chilkoot by the rushing
force of the moving snowslide urged on by a mighty wind. In an instant's
time a hundred men and women were brushed, like flies from a ceiling,
off the face of the mountain into their death below, leaving a space
cleared of all to the bare earth where only a few seconds before had
stood the patient toilers on the trail.

Only one thing remained for the living to do, and that was to drop all
else and rescue, if possible, the dying and engulfed ones. This they
did. When the wind had died away the snow in the air cleared, and
hundreds of men threw themselves into the rescue work. Many were injured
but lived. Some were buried in snow but found their way to light again.
One man was entirely covered except one arm which he used energetically
to inform those above him of his whereabouts. He was taken out unharmed,
and lived to welcome the writer of this to Dawson, where he carted and
delivered her trunk faithfully.

But Carrie N. had remained at Sh