The Last West; and, Paolo's Virginia — Inside the Classic

And said that he was not afraid To thrash the blooming crew, Their ancestors were not forgot, He hoped old Nick would make it hot For any that he knew. One parting curse did Jan call down, He hoped they all would surely drown Before they reached their goal; The waters be their winding sheet, That Hell would raise a double heat To welcome every soul. Then taking up his pack he set His face towards the trail that yet Along the river ran. But soon the blazes were no more, His path was barred by creeks, a score, Which now no bridges span. He felled the towering cottonwood, That graceful by the river stood, To bridge each torrent wide. But longest spans were swept away, By the wild waters in their play At the last creek he tried. So plunging in the torrent wild Which swept him helpless as a child, He braved its swollen tide. While raced along a branch he caught, That, waving from the shore long sought, Was like an arm outstretched. He pulled himself hand over hand Until his feet could feel the sand By eddying currents fetched. His pack was soaked with water through, There was no trail ahead he knew, But still kept on his way; And with determination strong Struggled the beach and cliffs along While held the light each day. At length he reached the little creek, The which he had set out to seek, And found some partners there. They had begun to pan the sand Which proved to be a golden strand At last to them laid bare. One day in camp the word went round That Jake and all his crew had drowned Between the canyon walls. Their staunch canoe was seen upturned Where white the boiling rapids churned Below the waterfalls.

Small wonder if Jan's conscience woke And if that moral guardian spoke In accusation strong Against the words he had let fall, Beyond the power of recall, To get revenge for wrong.

[1]Skookum--a Chinook word, meaning strong.

[2]Sourdough--a seasoned prospector.

Deep in the Sunset Valley Ill fortune had detained; Bacon and beans were finished; Of flour, none remained.

But now with tents and blankets, Facing the backward track, All hands were feeling cheerful Save the cook--his looks were black.

They'd packed across the mountains Where trails were never known, Through leagues of heavy timber And rock slides overgrown;

Had bridged the swollen torrents By felling trees across; And scrambled through the canyons That walled the river's course.

The horses of the pack train Had died in dark despair When brought to face the prospect Of using goat trails there;

So man a beast of burden Himself was forced to be; The crew packed grub and blankets And the cook the cutlery,

The dishpans and the kettles, The basins and a pot, A battered old reflector, Cups, bowls and plates, Great Scott!

Cymbals and drums weren't in it When cook did have a spill; The crash of warlike music Echoed from hill to hill

As down his pack came bounding, Spurning the canyon walls, Scattering pots and dishes, Leaping the waterfalls.

The packers looked in terror To see the cook come too As past their dizzy erie The clanging luggage flew;

When anxiously they hailed him, The cook, he only swore: "If I survive this picnic So help me--nevermore."

A Raid on the Seal Rookeries

The tale was told by a hunter bold Of a sealing schooner's crew, Of a midnight raid where the breakers played On reefs that the offing strew.

"In Behring Sea they tell," said he, "How Hansen, in the 'Adele,' Waiting for night, with never a light, Dared the reefs and ocean swell.

"A rascal bold, in misdeeds grown old, He had raided far and wide; But never before in the sealers' lore Had the Pribilof[1] reefs been tried.

"But an Aleut[2], by his sealskin boot And the grave of his father, swore For a keg of booze and a pair of shoes To sell their secret, and more.

"So Hansen knew to a yard or two Where the hidden ledges ran; And the breakers' roar on the reefs and shore Were guides to the daring man.

"The trailing kelp and a flash might help Where the phosphorus burned bright, For the deed was done past set of sun When the stars were hid from sight.

"The schooner's kedge to a rocky ledge, By a hempen cable tied, With silent stealth, for the raiders' health, Was lowered overside.

"Then with muffled oars they reached the shores Near a crowded rookery; Where the voice of seals, in loud appeals, Drowned the moan of wind and sea.