hing, one must have a
special permit, and for every such permit he must pay roundly.

The story is told of a miner in a hospital who was about to die. He
requested that the Governor be sent for. Being asked what he wanted with
the Governor, he replied: "I haven't any permit, and if I should
undertake to die without a permit, I should get myself arrested."

It is a well-known fact that many claims on Eldorado, Hunker and Bonanza
Creeks have turned out hundreds of thousands of dollars. One pan of
gravel on Eldorado Creek yielded $2100. Frank Dinsmore on Bonanza Creek
took out ninety pounds of solid gold or $24,480 in a single day. On
Aleck McDonald's claim on Eldorado, one man shoveled in $20,000 in
twelve hours. McDonald, in two years, dug from the frozen ground
$2,207,893. Charley Anderson, on Eldorado, panned out $700 in three
hours. T. S. Lippy is said to have paid the Canadian government $65,000
in royalties for the year 1898 and Clarence Berry about the same.

On Skukum Gulch $30,000 were taken from two boxes of dirt. Frank
Phiscator of Michigan, after a few months' work, brought home $100,000
in gold, selling one-third of his claim interests for $1,333,000, or at
the rate of $5,000,000 for the whole.

When a man is compelled to pay one thousand dollars out of every ten
thousand he digs from the ground, he will boast little of large
"clean-ups"; and for this reason it is hard to estimate the real amount
of gold extracted from the Klondyke mines.

Captain James Kennedy, an old pioneer and conservative mining man,
estimates the output for the season of 1899 as $25,000,000, or fifty
tons of dust and nuggets.

The most commendable thing about the Canadian Government is their strict
enforcement of order. Stealing is an almost unheard of thing, and petty
thieving does not exist. Mounted police in their brown uniforms and
soldiers in their red coats are everywhere seen in and around Dawson,
and they practice methods, which, to the uninitiated, make them very
nearly omnipresent.

While walking down street in Dawson one morning about nine o'clock, I
passed a group of men all wearing sober faces. "They're done for now,"
said a rough miner, glancing in the direction of the Barracks, where a
black flag was fluttering at the top of a staff.

"How so?" asked another, just come up to the group.

"Three men hung over there, an hour ago. They're goin' to bury 'em now,"
and the speaker twitched his thumbs first toward the B