The Argosy, September 1915 — page 221: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

_ Kobuk. LUCK OF. THE DEVIL. 435 Fall found him on a creek a hun- dred miles lower down the ‘Toklat from where he had crossed from the There he had thrown up a rude shack in which he was partially prepared to face the second winter. He was washing a pan of gravel in the creek-bed one night, muttering to himself as usual, when he suddenly dropped it and screamed: “Gold! Gold! At last I have struck it! Ha, ha! At last! O mine God in heaven, I thank Thee! ” He raised’ his outstretched arms and looked up at the sky. “Ha, ha!’ he chuckled mockingly to himself that night as he sewed up the contents of a little gold-sack. “Now have I got you! Ho, ho!” He roared and laughed while the dogs outside wailed with a fear that stifled them. Leyi worked frantically until the freeze-up, every evening sewing up the residue from his rocker in a little gold sack, apostrophizing it meanwhile in a familiar manner. There being nothing to do after the freeze-up took place—at least for a time—his demeanor underwent a eradual change. Half the night he would pace the cabin like a caged ani- mal, pick up one of the sacks and weigh it in his hand, mutter ominously to himself, then beat his breast and cry, “So help mine God!” Two men in a heavily laden poling- boat drew in to a slope on the right bank of the Toklat. The running ice made further progress impossible, so they decided to disembark, make camp, and reconnoiter. After piling all their grub on shore and hauling the boat up clear of the running ice, they pitched their tent and started in to cook up. “Some one’s been here ahead of us some time, Shorty,” remarked Three- Fingered Bill. “I see a few little tree- stumps around.” “Blamed if I believe there’s a creek left in this country that somebody hasn’t been on,” snorted Shorty as he cut some thick steaks from a loin of moose. “ Still we can’t go any farther just now, so we might as well stick around here a while and take a look. “Tf this creek looks all right in the morning we'll move our stuff up. If it doesn’t, we can camp here till the ice gets firm, and go farther up the river. We can do a little hunting, too. I see plenty of moose-tracks around.” After breakfast the following morn- ing the partners shouldered their guns and set off up the creek, which they had named Moose. The air was clear and dry. A light snow that had fallen during the night clung to the trees, undisturbed by even the whisper of a wind. As the sun rose the coronas of snow on the tree- tops were bathed in rose of gold. For many miles they saw no further sign of any one having been there, but about noon when they reached the forks of the creek they came upon a little clearing which gave evidence of some mining having been done by the shoveling-in process. Somewhat surprised, they looked around and at last discovered a little cabin on the point between the forks of the creek. Toward this they made their way. As they drew near a peal of diabol- ical laughter smote their ears. ‘For the love of Mike! What’s this, Shorty?” whispered Bill as they halted near the entrance. “ Another nut, you think? ” In a few minutes the laugh was re- peated. “Ha, ha, ha! I beat you again,” howled a voice. The listeners shivered. They had heard the voices of many victims of the silence. Pushing aside the canvas that did duty for a door they entered. This is what they saw by the light of a vacant window-place in the back of the cabin: Seated with crossed legs on the floor was the wild-looking form of a man in a ragged, worn-out fur coat. His face was covered with a long beard and his hair hung down Gomichbooks (E@)