Murphy, Gold Rush Dog by Alison Hart & Michael G. Montgomery

Author:Alison Hart & Michael G. Montgomery
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: JUVENILE FICTION / Animals / Dogs; JUVENILE FICTION / Historical / United States / 20th Century
Publisher: Peachtree Publishers
Published: 2014-10-01T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TEN

Up the River

August 7, 1900

Sally and I were ready to set out at midday, laden with supplies. My harness was heavy, packed with two rolled up oilcloths, netting, a rope, a scoop, a mining pan, a frying pan, and a lantern. Sally carried food, fishing gear, utensils, matches, candles, a wool blanket, Grimm’s Fairy Tales, and clothing in a canvas pack on her back. She had mittens and jacket looped over her belt, as well as a knife in a sheath. Gone were her pinafore, bonnet, and boots. Instead she wore mukluks, leggings under her skirt, and a brimmed hat onto which she had sewn mosquito netting. Sally left a letter for Mama and we headed up the beach.

Mama had not changed her mind about leaving Nome. In the last two days Sally had packed bit by bit in secret whenever Mama was at work, and each time I tried on my harness, it grew heavier and heavier.

We both banged and clattered as we walked to the dock that jutted into the Snake River where it met the Bering Sea. There we climbed into a boat pulled by a team of four dogs. The dogs clambered along the riverbank, occasionally splashing in the water while a boatman stood in the bow, using a long pole to keep the hull in deeper water and away from the shore. There were many barrels and crates on the boat, but no other passengers.

“Where are you and your dog headed, miss?” the boatman asked after introducing himself as Mr. Lindblom. “You appear to be packed for a long trip.”

“As far as we can go upriver,” Sally said. “Where is your last stop?”

“Usually two miles inland,” he told her. “That’s where I drop the last supplies.”

“I would like to pay you to go beyond that spot—as far as you can.” She held several coins out to him.

Staring at the coins, Mr. Lindblom raised one brow. “Does your papa know you are out and about on your own?”

“Thank you for your concern.” Sally sounded as grown-up as Mama. “I am heading upriver to my father’s mining camp now. And I am not alone.” She draped her arm over my neck. “I have Murphy.”

“Your papa’s beyond Point Crossing?” he asked.

Sally nodded. “Yes. It will be a hike from there, and my dog and I would be grateful for a boat ride as far as possible.”

“We-l-l-l…” He scratched under his sweaty hat as he thought. “The river is high, but as soon as the bottom of the boat scrapes, I will have to let you off on shore.”

“Thank you, sir.”

For a few minutes the boat surged up the Snake, with only the noise of the barking dogs filling the air. The shore was dotted with signs of miners—piles of rubble, rusting machines, broken pilings—but few men were working. Sally kept her arm around my neck. I leaned against her and felt her tremble. Was she as worried as I about this strange journey?

I began to pant. The day had warmed and I was hot under my harness.

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