Gold-Seeking on the Dalton Trail: Being the Adventures of Two New England Boys in Alaska and the Northwest TerritoryThompson, Arthur R. (Arthur Ripley)
General
Gold-Seeking on the Dalton Trail: Being the Adventures of Two New England Boys in Alaska and the Northwest Territory
Thompson, Arthur R. (Arthur Ripley)
Klondike River Valley (Yukon) -- Gold discoveries -- Fiction
[Illustration: SLEDDING UP THE CHILKAT VALLEY]
GOLD-SEEKING
ON THE DALTON TRAIL
_BEING THE ADVENTURES OF TWO
NEW ENGLAND BOYS IN ALASKA
AND THE NORTHWEST TERRITORY_
BY
ARTHUR R. THOMPSON
Illustrated
BOSTON LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY 1900
_Copyright, 1900_,
BY LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY
_All rights reserved_
UNIVERSITY PRESS · JOHN WILSON AND SON · CAMBRIDGE, U.S.A.
TO
My Comrade of Many Camp-Fires
DEXTER WADLEIGH LEWIS
PREFACE
Among my first passions was that for exploration. The Unknown--that
region of mysteries lying upon the outskirts of commonplace
environment--drew me with a mighty attraction. My earliest
recollections are of wanderings into the domains of the neighbors, and
of excursions--not infrequently in direct contravention to parental
warnings--over fences, stone-walls, and roofs, and into cobwebbed
attics, fragrant hay-lofts, and swaying tree-tops. Of my favorite tree,
a sugar maple, I remember that, so thoroughly did I come to know every
one of its branches, I could climb up or down unhesitatingly with eyes
shut. At that advanced stage of acquaintance, however, it followed
naturally that the mysteriousness, and hence the subtle attractiveness,
of my friend the maple was considerably lessened.
By degrees the boundary line of the unknown was pushed back into
surrounding fields. Wonderful caves were hollowed in sandy banks.
Small pools, to the imaginative eyes of the six-year-old, became
lakes abounding with delightful adventures. The wintry alternations
of freezing and thawing were processes to be observed with closest
attention and never-failing interest. Nature displayed some new charm
with every mood.
There came a day when I looked beyond the fields, when even the river,
sluggish and muddy in summer, a broad, clear torrent in spring, was
known from end to end. Then it was that the range of low mountains--to
me sublime in loftiness--at the western horizon held my fascinated
gaze. To journey thither on foot became ambition's end and aim. This
feat, at first regarded as undoubtedly beyond the powers of man unaided
by horse and carry-all (the thing had once been done in that manner on
the occasion of a picnic), was at length proved possible.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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