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Mastering phpMyAdmin 3 1 for Effective MySQL
Management 4th edition Edition Delisle Digital Instant
Download
Author(s): Delisle, Marc
ISBN(s): 9781847197870, 1847197876
Edition: 4th edition
File Details: PDF, 9.87 MB
Year: 2009
Language: english
Mastering phpMyAdmin 3.1 for
Effective MySQL Management

Increase your MySQL productivity and control by

discovering the real power of phpMyAdmin 3.1

Marc Delisle

BIRMINGHAM - MUMBAI

Download from www.bnewx.com

Mastering phpMyAdmin 3.1
for Effective MySQL Management

Copyright © 2009 Packt Publishing

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval
system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, without the prior written
permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embedded in
critical articles or reviews.

Every effort has been made in the preparation of this book to ensure the accuracy of
the information presented. However, the information contained in this book is sold
without warranty, either express or implied. Neither the author, Packt Publishing,
nor its dealers or distributors will be held liable for any damages caused or alleged to
be caused directly or indirectly by this book.

Packt Publishing has endeavored to provide trademark information about all the
companies and products mentioned in this book by the appropriate use of capitals.
However, Packt Publishing cannot guarantee the accuracy of this information.

First published: March 2009

Production Reference: 1050309

Published by Packt Publishing Ltd.

32 Lincoln Road
Olton
Birmingham, B27 6PA, UK.

ISBN 978-1-847197-86-3

www.packtpub.com

Cover Image by Marc Delisle ([email protected])

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 Credits

Author Production Editorial Manager

Marc Delisle Abhijeet Deobhakta

Reviewer Editorial Team Leader

Kai "Oswald" Seidler Akshara Aware

Acquisition Editor Project Team Leader

Shilpa Dube Lata Basantani

Development Editor Project Coordinator

Shilpa Dube Rajashree Hamine

Technical Editor Proofreaders

Gaurav Datar Mark Reardon
Joel T. Johnson
Copy Editor
Sumathi Sridhar Production Coordinator
Rajni R. Thorat
Indexer
Rekha Nair Cover Work
Rajni R. Thorat

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 About the author

Marc Delisle, owing to his involvement with phpMyAdmin, is a member of

the MySQL Developers Guild that regroups community developers. He began
contributing to this popular MySQL web interface in December 1998, when he
made its first multi-language version. As a developer and project administrator,
he has been actively involved with this software project since 2001.

Since 1980 Marc has worked at Cegep de Sherbrooke, Québec, Canada, as an

application programmer and network manager. He has also been teaching
networking, security, and PHP/MySQL application development. In one of his
classes, he was pleased to meet a phpMyAdmin user from Argentina. Marc lives in
Sherbrooke with his wife, and they enjoy spending time with their four children.

This book is an update to Marc's first book on phpMyAdmin, published by

Packt Publishing in 2004, followed by "Creating your MySQL Database:
Practical Design Tips and Techniques", also by Packt Publishing.

I am truly grateful to Louay Fatoohi, who approached me for this

book project, and to the Packt team whose sound comments were
greatly appreciated during production. My thanks also go to Garvin
Hicking, Alexander Marcus Turek, and Kai 'Oswald' Seidler—the
reviewers for the successive editions of this book. Their sharp eyes
helped in making this book clearer and more complete.

Finally, I wish to thank all contributors to phpMyAdmin's source

code, translations, and documentation. The time they gave to this
project still inspires me and continues to push me forward.

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 About the reviewer

Kai "Oswald" Seidler was born in Hamburg in 1970. He graduated from the
Technical University of Berlin with a Diplom-Informatiker degree (the equivalent
of a Master of Science degree) in Computer Science. In the '90s, he created and
managed Germany's biggest IRCnet server—irc.fu-berlin.de, and co-managed
one of the world's largest anonymous FTP servers—ftp.cs.tu-berlin.de.

He set up his first professional public web server in 1993. From 1993 to 1998, he was
a member of Projektgruppe Kulturraum Internet—a research project on net culture
and network organization. In 2002, he co-founded Apache Friends and created the
multi-platform Apache web server bundle XAMPP. Around 2005, XAMPP became
the most popular Apache stack worldwide.

In 2006, his third book, "Das XAMPP-Handbuch", was published by Addison Wesley.
Download from www.bnewx.com
To Carole, André, Corinne, Annie, and Guillaume, with all my love.

Download from www.bnewx.com

 Download from www.bnewx.com

Table of Contents
Preface 1
Chapter 1: Introduction and Installation 7
Introducing phpMyAdmin 7
Web applications 7
PHP and MySQL:The leading open source duo 8
What is phpMyAdmin? 8
phpMyAdmin features 9
Installing phpMyAdmin 10
Required information 11
System requirements 11
Downloading the files 11
Installation procedure 12
Installation on a remote server using a Windows client 12
Installation on a local Linux server 13
Installation on local Windows servers (Apache, IIS) 13
Configuring phpMyAdmin 13
The config.inc.php file 14
Permissions on config.inc.php 14
Configuration principles 15
Web-based setup script 16
Manual creation of config.inc.php 22
Tips for editing config.inc.php on a Windows Client 22
Description of some configuration parameters 23
PmaAbsoluteUri 23
Server-specific sections 23
Upgrading phpMyAdmin 26
Summary 26
Table of Contents

Chapter 2: Authentication and Security 27

MySQL authentication 27
Root user without password 27
Single-user authentication using config 28
Testing the connection 28
Multi-user authentication 29
Authentication types offered 29
The control user 29
Logging out 30
HTTP authentication 30
Cookie authentication 31
Signon authentication 33
Multi-server configuration 34
Servers defined in the configuration file 34
Arbitrary server 35
Security 36
Directory-level protection 36
Error handling 37
IP-based access control 37
Rules 37
Order of interpretation for rules 38
Simplified rule for root access 39
Restricting the list of databases 39
Protecting in-transit data 40
Swekey hardware authentication 40
Configuration 41
Usage 41
Security note 42
Summary 42
Chapter 3: Interface Overview 43
Panels and windows 43
Login panels 43
Left and right panels 43
Homepage 44
Views 44
Query window 44
Starting page 45
General customization 45
Window titles configuration 45
Icon configuration 45
Natural sort order for database and table names 46
Site-specific header and footer 46

[ ii ]
 Table of Contents

MySQL documentation links 47

Themes 48
Theme configuration 48
Theme selection 48
The color picker 49
Sliders 50
Character sets, collations and language 50
Collations 50
Unicode and UTF-8 51
Language selection 51
Effective character sets and collations 52
Left panel (navigation) 53
Logo configuration 54
Database and table list 54
Light mode 55
Full mode 56
Table short statistics 57
Table quick-access icon 58
Nested display of tables within a database 58
Server-list choice 59
Handling many databases or tables 60
Limits on the interface 60
Improving fetch speed 61
Right panel (main) 62
Homepage 62
Database view 63
Table view 65
Server view 65
Icons for homepage and menu tabs 66
Query window 66
Summary 67
Chapter 4: First Steps 69
Database creation 69
No privileges? 69
First database creation is authorized 70
Creating our first table 71
Choosing the fields 71
Table creation 72
Choosing keys 74
Manual data insertion 76
Data entry panel tuning for CHAR and VARCHAR 77

[ iii ]
Table of Contents

Browse mode 78
SQL query links 79
Navigation bar 80
Query results operations 82
Sorting results 83
Headwords 84
Color-marking rows 84
Limiting the length of each column 85
Display options 85
Browsing distinct values 85
Browse-mode customization 86
Creating an additional table 87
Summary 88
Chapter 5: Changing Data 89
Edit mode 89
Moving to next field with the tab key 90
Moving with arrows 91
Handling NULL values 91
Applying a function to a value 92
Duplicating rows of data 93
Multi-row editing 94
Editing the next row 94
Deleting data 95
Deleting a single row 95
Deleting many rows 96
Deleting all the rows in a table 97
Deleting all rows in many tables 98
Deleting tables 98
Deleting databases 98
Summary 99
Chapter 6: Changing Table Structures 101
Adding a field 101
Vertical mode 102
Horizontal mode 103
Editing field attributes 103
TEXT 104
BLOB (Binary Large Object) fields 104
Binary content uploads 105

[ iv ]

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 Table of Contents

ENUM and SET 106

DATE, DATETIME, and TIMESTAMP 108
Calendar pop up 108
TIMESTAMP options 110
Bit 110
Index management 111
Single-field indexes 111
Multi-field indexes and index editing 112
FULLTEXT Indexes 113
Table optimization—explaining a query 114
Detection of index problems 115
Summary 116
Chapter 7: Exporting Structure and Data (Backup) 117
Dumps, backups, and exports 117
Scope of the export 118
Database exports 118
The export subpanel 119
SQL 119
SQL options 122
The "Save as file" subpanel 126
File name template 126
Compression 127
Choice of character set 128
Kanji support 128
CSV 129
CSV for MS Excel 130
PDF 131
Microsoft Excel 2000 131
Microsoft Word 2000 132
LaTeX 133
XML 134
Native MS Excel (pre-Excel 2000) 134
Open document spreadsheet 135
Open document text 136
YAML 137
CodeGen 137
Texy! text 137
Table exports 138
Split-file exports 138

[v]
Table of Contents

Selective exports 139

Exporting partial query results 139
Exporting and checkboxes 140
Multi-database exports 140
Saving the export file on the server 141
User-specific save directories 142
Memory limits 142
Summary 142
Chapter 8: Importing Structure and Data 143
Limits for the transfer 144
Time limits 144
Other limits 144
Partial imports 145
Temporary directory 145
Importing SQL files 146
Importing CSV files 147
Differences between SQL and CSV formats 147
Exporting a test file 148
CSV 148
CSV using LOAD DATA 149
Requirements 149
Using the LOAD DATA interface 150
Web server upload directories 151
Summary 152
Chapter 9: Searching Data 153
Daily usage of phpMyAdmin 153
Single-table searches 153
Entering the search subpage 153
Search criteria by field—query by example 154
Searching for empty / non-empty values 155
Print view 155
Wildcard search 156
Case sensitivity 157
Combining criteria 157
Search options 158
Selecting the fields to be displayed 158
Ordering the results 158
Applying a WHERE clause 158
Obtaining distinct results 159
Complete database search 160

[ vi ]
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content Scribd suggests to you:
 “Yes,” replied Jalap. “They said as it were the only navigable
channel.”
“Well, it isn’t, for I know of another that is equally good, and two
hundred miles or so shorter. You see, there is a big river coming
from the southeast and emptying into the Yukon somewhere in this
vicinity, called the Tanana.”
“That’s right,” assented the sailor, “for I’ve already passed its
mouth twice about half-way between here and where the St.
Michaels is friz in.”
“Good enough,” said Phil. “Now by following this Tanana for two or
three hundred miles, and taking up one of its eastern branches that
is called the Gheesah, or some such name, and crossing a divide, we
can strike the headwaters of Forty Mile Creek.”
“And sail down with the current, run into port under a full press of
canvas, and capture the market afore the enemy heaves in sight!”
exclaimed Jalap Coombs, enthusiastically, his practical mind quick to
note the advantages of Phil’s scheme. “But what’s to become of
me?” he added, anxiously. “Kin ye fit me out with a new pair of
feet?”
“Certainly we can,” replied Phil, promptly. “We can fit you out with
fourteen new pair, and will guarantee that, thus provided, you will be
able to travel as fast as the rest of us.”
“Fourteen pair o’ feet?” repeated Jalap Coombs, reflectively, “and
slow-shoes on every pair? Seems to me, son, you must be calkilating
to run me under a kind of a santipede rig, which it looks like the
strain on the hull would be too great. As for navigating fourteen pair
of slow-shoes all to once, I don’t reckin old Kite hisself could do it.
Still, if you think it can be did, why go ahead and try it on. I’m
agreeable, as the cat said after he’d swallowed the cap’n’s wife’s
canary.”
So Phil’s plan was adopted without a dissenting voice, and from
that moment Jalap Coombs said nothing more about a return to St.
Michaels.
 That very evening, leaving Serge to see what could be done for
the sailor-man’s lameness, and taking Kurilla with him to act as
interpreter, Phil visited several Indian huts. At these he finally
succeeded in purchasing enough furs and moose-hide for a huge
sleeping-bag, which the several squaws, who, under promise of a
liberal recompense in tea, undertook its construction, promised
should be ready by morning. Phil also bought an immense pair of
arctic sleeping-socks and an extra supply of snow-goggles.
When he told Kurilla of their change of plan, and that they
intended going up the Tanana, the latter replied, dubiously, “Me
plenty don’t know um. Maybe git lose. Yaas.”
“Oh, that’ll be all right,” answered Phil, cheerfully. “You’ll plenty
know um before we get through with um, and whenever you don’t
know which way to go, just come and ask me.”
When he returned to the house he found Serge boiling with
indignation. “Do you know,” he cried, “that Mr. Coombs has walked
all the way from St. Michaels without pads in his boots, because
those other fellows told him his feet would toughen quicker if he
didn’t use them? The consequence is they are simply raw from
blisters, and every step he takes must be like treading on knives.”
“It has been tedious at times,” admitted Jalap Coombs. “And
under the sarcumstances I don’t know but what I’d ruther have one
pair of feet than fourteen, or even half the number.”
“Isn’t it good to have old Jalap with us once more?” asked Phil of
Serge, after they had turned in that night.
“Indeed it is; but do you notice how he has changed?”
“I should say I had. He is like a salt-water fish suddenly dropped
into a fresh-water pond. He’ll come out all right, though, especially if
we can only get his feet into shape again.”
That night the mercury fell to fifty-nine degrees below zero, and
the next morning even Phil, impatient as he was to proceed, had not
the heart to order men and dogs out into that bitter air before
sunrise. With that, however, the mercury began slowly to rise, and
when it had crept up nineteen degrees, or to only forty degrees
below, the young leader declared the weather to be warm enough
for anybody. So he ordered the sledges to be got ready, and when
the one drawn by his own team came dashing up to the door, he
announced that Mr. Coombs’s fourteen pair of feet were at his
service. He also politely requested the sailor-man to crawl into a big
fur-lined bag with which the sledge was provided, and make himself
comfortable.
“But, Phil,” demurred the other, “I ain’t no passenger to be tucked
up in a steamer-cheer on deck. I’m shipped for this v’y’ge as one of
the crew.”
“Very well,” replied Phil. “Then of course you will obey orders
without a murmur, for I remember hearing you say, when we were
aboard the Seamew, that even if a captain were to order his whole
crew to knit bedquilts or tidies, they’d be bound to obey to the best
of their ability.”
“Sartain,” admitted the other. “I got that from old Kite Roberson,
which bedquilts and tidies were his very words.” Then, without
further remonstrance, the crippled sailor stepped to the sledge, slid
feet first into the big bag, and lay there like an animated mummy,
with the hood of his parka drawn close about his face. Its encircling
fringe of long wolf-hair, added to his preternatural gravity of
countenance, gave him such a comical expression that the boys
could not help shouting with laughter as Kurilla cracked his great
whip and the dogs sprang away with their new burden.
Phil took the lead, as usual, and when they reached the mouth of
the Tanana, which, on account of its broad expanse, there was no
chance of mistaking, he turned into it without hesitation, and in a
few minutes they had taken their last view of the Yukon for many a
long day.
At its mouth the Tanana is nearly three miles broad, or as wide as
the Yukon itself, and is filled with islands, on which are stranded
quantities of uprooted trees of greater size than any seen on the
Yukon above that point.
The bitterness of the cold continued unabated, and the sledge
party had hardly lost sight of the Yukon ere the young leader heard
himself hailed from the rear, and paused to learn what was wanted.
“I say, Cap’n Phil,” began Jalap Coombs, with chattering teeth, “is
it your orders or desire that your men should freeze to death?”
“Certainly not,” laughed the lad.
“Then, sir, I has the honor to report that this member of the crew
is already froze solid half-way up, with ice making fast through the
remainder of his system.”
“That is entirely contrary to orders,” replied Phil, sternly, “and
must be stopped at once. So, sir, put your helm to port, and run for
yonder timber.”
Half an hour later poor Jalap was being outwardly thawed by a
roaring fire of great logs, and inwardly by cupful after cupful of
scalding tea, which moved him to remark that, according to his
friend Kite Roberson, tea and coffee were the next best things to
observations of the sun for determining latitude.
 CHAPTER XVIII
CHRISTMAS ON THE TANANA

“Look here,” said Phil, referring to the mate’s last surprising

statement, “wasn’t your friend Mr. Roberson in the habit of drawing
the long bow?”
“No,” replied Jalap Coombs, in surprise at the question; “he
couldn’t abide ’em.”
“Couldn’t abide what?”
“Bows, nor yet arrers, since when he were a kid some boys put up
a game on him that they called William Tell, which allers did seem to
me the foolishest game, seeing that his name warn’t William, but
Kite, and he warn’t expected to tell anything, only just to stand with
a punkin on his head for them to shoot their bow-arrers at. Waal,
the very fust one missed the punkin and plunked poor Kite in the
stummick, after which he didn’t have no use for a long bow nor a
short bow, nor yet a bow of any kind.”
“I don’t blame him,” laughed Serge. “But we would very much like
to know how he determined latitude by tea and coffee.”
“Easy enough,” was the reply. “You see, tea is drunk mostly in cold
latitoods similar to this, and coffee in warm. The higher the latitood,
the hotter and stronger the tea, and the less you hear of coffee. At
forty-five or thereabouts they’s drunk about alike, while south of that
coffee grows blacker and more common, while tea takes a back seat
till you get to the line, where it’s mighty little used. Then as you go
south of that the same thing begins all over again; but there’s not
many would notice sich things, and fewer as would put ’em to
practical use like old Kite done.”
 “Mr. Coombs,” said Phil, “you sound pretty well thawed out, and if
that is the case we’ll get under way again.”
“Aye, aye, sir!” responded the mate, thrashing his long arms
vigorously across his chest to restore circulation, and then slipping
resignedly into his fur bag. “Anchor’s apeak, sir.” And away sped the
sledges up the broad level of the Tanana.
Every member of the party had by this time become so thoroughly
broken in to his duties that when they made camp that night the
promptness with which it was prepared, as well as the ensuing
comfort, was a revelation to Jalap Coombs, who declared that there
had been nothing like it in the camps of the other party.
“Of course not,” said Phil, “for they haven’t got Serge Belcofsky
along, so how could their comfort equal ours?”
At this Serge, covered with confusion, replied, “Nonsense, Phil!
You know it is because we have got such capital campmen as Kurilla
and Chitsah with us.”
At this the face of the elder Indian beamed with pleasure. He did
not exactly understand the conversation; but believing that he ought
to make some reply, he pointed to Jalap Coombs, and, looking at
Phil, remarked:
“You fadder. Yaas.”
But the journey up the Tanana was by no means an unbroken
record of swift movings from one comfortable camp to another, or of
jokes and pleasantries. The days were now at their shortest, so that
each could boast only about four hours of sunlight, and even that
was frequently obscured by fierce storms, when the howling winds
cut like knives, and it required every ounce of Phil Ryder’s pluck as
well as Serge Belcofsky’s dogged determination to keep the little
party in motion. The feet of the poor dogs were often so pierced by
ice slivers that their tracks were marked with blood. The older and
more experienced would bite at these and pull them out. Others
would howl with pain, while some would lie down and refuse to work
until they were put in boots, which were little bags of deer-hide
drawn over their feet and fastened with buckskin thongs.
It was a journey of constant and painful struggle and of dreary
monotony, each day being only the same endless succession of ice-
bound river, snow-covered hills, and sombre forest. Especially
depressing was the night of the 24th of December, when, with an icy
wind moaning through the tree-tops of the subarctic forest, and the
shivering dogs edging towards the fire for a share of its grateful
warmth, Phil and Serge and Jalap Coombs reminded each other that
this was Christmas Eve. Never before had Phil spent one away from
home, nor had the others ever been so utterly removed from the
cheering influences of the joyous season. So Phil described what he
knew was taking place in far-distant New London at that very hour,
and Serge told of merry times in quaint old Sitka, while Jalap
Coombs recalled many a noble plum-duff that had graced Christmas
feasts far out at sea, until they all grew homesick, and finally
crawled into their sleeping-bags to dream of scenes as remote from
those surrounding them as could well be imagined.
As they always selected a camping-place and prepared for the
long night by the last of the scanty daylight or in the middle of the
afternoon, so they always resumed their journey by the moonlight or
starlight, or even in the darkness of two or three o’clock the next
morning. On Christmas morning they started, as usual, many hours
before daylight, and, either owing to the vagueness of all outlines, or
because his thoughts were far away, the young leader mistook a
branch for the main river, and headed for a portion of the mighty
wilderness that no white man had ever yet explored.
About noon they passed a forlorn native village of three or four
snow-covered huts, the occupants of which gazed at the
unaccustomed sight of white travellers in stolid amazement. They
had gone nearly a mile beyond this sole evidence of human
occupation to be found in many a weary league when Phil suddenly
stopped.
 “Look here!” he exclaimed, “what do you two say to going back,
making a camp near that village, and having some sort of a
Christmas, after all? It doesn’t seem right for white folks to let the
day go by without celebrating it somehow.”
As the others promptly agreed to this proposition the sledges were
faced about, and a few minutes later the music of Musky’s jingling
bells again attracted the wondering natives from their burrows.
Camp was made on a wooded island opposite the village, and
while the others were clearing the snow from a space some fifty feet
square, and banking it up on the windward side, Phil took his gun
and set forth to hunt for a Christmas dinner. An hour later he
returned with four arctic hares and a brace of ptarmigan, or Yukon
grouse, whose winter plumage was as spotless as the snow itself.
He found Serge and Jalap Coombs concocting a huge plum-duff,
while from the brass kettle a savory steam was already issuing.
Kurilla and Chitsah had chopped a hole through four feet of ice and
were fishing, while a few natives from the village hovered about the
outskirts of the camp, watching its strange life with curious interest.
They were very shy, and moved away when Phil approached them,
seeing which he called Kurilla and bade him tell them that a present
would be given to every man, woman, and child who should visit the
camp before sunset.
At first they could not comprehend this startling proposition, but
after it had been repeated a few times the youngest of them, a mere
boy, uttered a joyous shout and started on a run for the village. A
few minutes later its entire population, not more than twenty-five in
all, including babes in arms, or rather in the hoods of their mother’s
parkas, came hurrying over from the mainland filled with eager
expectancy.
To every man Phil presented a small piece of tobacco, to every
woman a handful of tea, and to every child a biscuit dipped in
molasses. With each present he uttered, very distinctly, the word
“Christmas.” At length one child—though whether it were a boy or a
girl he could not make out, for their fur garments were all exactly
alike—looked up with a bashful smile and said “Kikmuk.” In a minute
all the others had caught the word, and the air rang with shouts of
“Kikmuk,” mingled with joyous laughter.

“KIKMUK”

Then they all trooped back to the village, shouting “Kikmuk” as

they went; and so long as they live the word will be associated in
their minds with happiness and good-will. Three of them, a man and
two women, afterwards returned, bringing with them a pair of dainty
moccasins, a fox-skin, and an intestine filled with melted fat, which
they timidly presented to Phil, Serge, and Jalap Coombs respectively.
The last named regarded his gift rather dubiously, but accepted it
with a hearty “Kikmuk,” and remarked that it would probably be
good for his feet, which it afterwards proved to be.
These three were invited to dine with Kurilla and Chitsah, an
invitation which they accepted, and so became the guests of the
Christmas dinner. On their side of the fire the feast consisted largely
of the fish the Indians had just caught, to which were added
unstinted tea and a liberal supply of the plum-duff. On the other side
were mock-turtle soup à la can, baked fish, rabbit fricassee, roast
grouse, plum-duff, hard bread, tea, and cocoa; all of which
combined to form what Phil pronounced to be the very best
Christmas dinner he had ever eaten, in which sentiment Serge and
Jalap Coombs heartily concurred.
Even the dogs were given cause to rejoice that Christmas had at
length come to their snowy land by receiving a double ration of dried
fish, which put them into such good spirits that they spent the
greater part of the night in a rollicking game of romps.
On the Indian side of the fire the unwonted good cheer so
overcame the shyness of the villagers that the man ventured to ask
questions regarding the intentions and destination of this sledge
party of strangers. When these were stated by Kurilla, he remained
silent for a minute. Then he delivered a long and animated speech.
As a result of this, and when it was finished, Kurilla left his own
side of the fire and, approaching Phil, said:
“You go Forty Mile?”
“Yes. We are going to Forty Mile, of course.”
“No like um Tanana?”
“Certainly, I like the Tanana well enough. I shall like it better,
though, when we have seen the last of it.”
“No can see um now.”
 “Why not? There it is right out yonder.”
“No. Him Kloot-la-ku-ka. Tanana so” (pointing to the way they had
come). “You go so way” (pointing up-stream), “get lose; mebbe no
fin’; plenty bad. Yaas!”
So, all on account of keeping Christmas and trying to bring a little
of its joy into the hearts of those children of the wilderness, Phil’s
mistake was discovered before its consequences became disastrous,
and he was once more enabled to place his little party on the right
road to Sitka.
 CHAPTER XIX
A BATTLE WITH WOLVES

The remainder of the journey up the Tanana was uneventful, but

so long that the new year was well begun ere the sledge party left it
and turned up the Gheesah branch, which flows in from the east. An
Indian guide, procured at the last village by the promise of a pound
of tobacco for his services, accompanied them on their four days’
journey up this river, and to the summit of the bleak, wind-swept
divide, five hundred feet above timber-line. This gave the dogs a
hard pull, though Jalap Coombs insisted upon lightening their load
by walking; nor from this time on would he again consent to be
treated as an invalid.
The summit once passed, they plunged rapidly down its farther
side, and into the welcome shelter of timber fringing a tiny stream
whose course they were now to follow. Their guide called it the
Tukh-loo-ga-ne-lukh-nough, which, after vain attempts to remember,
Phil shortened to “Tough Enough.” Jalap Coombs, however, declared
that this was not a “sarcumstance” to the names of certain down-
East streams among which he was born, and to prove his assertion
began to talk glibly of the Misquabenish, the Keejimkoopic, the
Kashagawigamog, the Kahwahcambejewagamog, and others of like
brevity, until Phil begged him to take a rest.
That night, while the camp was buried in the profound slumber
that followed a day of unusually hard work, and the fire had burned
to a bed of coals, the single, long-drawn howl of a wolf was borne to
it with startling distinctness by the night wind. As though it were a
signal, it was answered from a dozen different directions at once.
The alert dogs sprang from their snowy beds with bristling crests,
and hurled back a challenge of fierce barkings; but this, being an
incident of nightly occurrence, failed to arouse the tired sleepers.
Within a few minutes the dread howlings had so increased in
volume that they seemed to issue from scores of savage throats,
and to completely encircle the little camp. It was as if all the wolves
of the forest, rendered desperate by famine, had combined for a raid
on the supply of provisions so kindly placed within their reach.
Nearer and nearer they came, until their dark forms could be seen
like shadows of evil omen flitting among the trees and across the
open moonlit spaces.
The dogs, at first eager to meet their mortal foes, now huddled
together, terrified by overwhelming numbers. Still the occupants of
the camp slept, unconscious of their danger. Suddenly there came a
rush, an unearthly clamor of savage outcry, and the sleepers were
roused to a fearful wakening by a confused struggle within the very
limits of the camp, and over their recumbent forms. They sprang up
with yells of terror, and at the sound of human voices the invaders
drew back, snapping and snarling with rage.
“Timber wolves!” shouted Serge. “Your rifle, Phil! Quick!”
Emboldened by this reinforcement, the dogs advanced to the edge
of the camp space, but with low growls in place of their former
defiant barkings.
Phil was trembling with excitement; but Serge, steady as a rock,
was throwing the No. 4’s from the double-barrel and reloading with
buckshot, at the same time calling to Chitsah to pile wood on the
fire, and to the other Indians not to fire until all were ready. Jalap
Coombs seized an axe, and, forgetful of the bitter cold, was rolling
up his sleeves as though he purposed to fight the wolves single-
handed. At the same time he denounced them as pirates and bloody
land-sharks, and dared them to come within his reach.
“Are you ready?” cried Serge; “then fire!” And with a roar that
woke the forest echoes for miles, the four guns poured their
contents into the dense black mass that seemed just ready to hurl
itself for a second time upon the camp.
With frightful howlings the pack scattered, and began to gallop
swiftly in a wide circle about the fire-lit space. One huge brute,
frenzied with rage, leaped directly towards the camp, with gleaming
eyes and frothing mouth. Ere a gun could be levelled, Jalap Coombs
stepped forward to meet him, and, with a mighty, swinging blow, his
heavy axe crushed the skull of the on-coming beast as though it had
been an eggshell. Instantly the dogs were upon him, and tearing
fiercely at their fallen enemy.
With the first shot Phil’s nervousness vanished, and as coolly as
Serge himself he followed, with levelled rifle, the movements of the
yelling pack in their swift circling. At each patch of moonlit space
one or more of the fierce brutes fell before his unerring fire, until
every shot of his magazine was exhausted.
“Now,” cried Serge, “we must scatter them. Every man take a
firebrand in each hand, and all make a dash together.”
 “NOW,” CRIED SERGE, “ALL MAKE A DASH TOGETHER!”

“Yelling,” added Jalap Coombs.

“Yes, yelling louder than the wolves themselves.”
The plan was no sooner proposed than adopted. Musky, Luvtuk,
big Amook, and the rest, inspired by their masters’ courage, joined
in the assault; and before that fire-bearing, yelling, on-rushing line
of humanity and dogs the gaunt forest raiders gave way and fled in
all directions.
 The whole battle had not lasted more than five minutes, but it
resulted in the death of nineteen wolves, six of which were
despatched by the sailor man’s terrible axe after the fight was over
and they, more or less wounded, were slinking away towards places
of hiding. But the dogs found them out, and they met a swift fate at
the hands of Jalap Coombs.
As he finally re-entered the camp, dragging the last one behind
him, he remarked, with a chuckle,
“Waal, boys, I ruther guess our boat’s ‘high line’ this time, and I’m
free to admit that this here wolf racket beats most kinds of fishing
for genuine entertainment, onless it’s fishing for sharks, which is
exciting at times. I’m pleased to have met up with this school,
though, for it’s allers comforting to run across fresh proofs of my
friend old Kite Roberson’s knowingness. He useter say consarning
the critters, Kite did, that wolves was sharks and sharks was wolves,
and that neither of ’em warn’t no fit playthings for children; which it
now seems to me he were correct, as usual.”
“He certainly was,” replied Phil, who, leaning on his rifle, was
thoughtfully regarding the shaggy beast that Kite Roberson’s friend
had just dragged into camp. “But aren’t these uncommonly big
wolves? I never knew they grew so large.”
“They don’t generally,” answered Serge; “but these are of the
same breed as the great Siberian wolves, which, you know, are
noted as being the largest and fiercest in the world.”
“I don’t wonder now that the dogs were frightened,” continued
Phil, “for this fellow looks twice as big as Amook, and he’s no puppy.
But I say, Serge, you’re an awfully plucky chap. As for myself, I must
confess I was so badly rattled that I don’t believe I should have even
thought of a gun before they were on us a second time.”
“If they had made a second rush not one of us would be alive to
talk about it now,” remarked Serge, soberly; “and it was only the
promptness of our attack that upset their plans. In dealing with
wolves it is always safest to force the fighting; for while they are
awful bullies, they are cowards at heart, like all bullies I ever heard
of.”
“Captain Duff, for instance,” said Phil, with a reminiscent smile.
Then he added: “Anyhow, old man, you got us out of a bad scrape,
for it isn’t every fellow who would know just how to deal with a pack
of wolves, especially when wakened from a sound sleep to find them
piling on top of him.”
“I don’t believe it was quite as bad as that,” objected Serge. “I
expect only the dogs piled on top of us when they were driven in.
By-the-way, did you know that four of them were killed, and several
others pretty badly hurt?”
“No, I didn’t,” cried Phil, in dismay. “What ones are killed?”
“Two from my team, one from yours, and one from Chitsah’s.”
“Oh, the villains!” exclaimed the young leader. “Another victory like
that would cripple us. Do you think there is any danger of them
coming back?”
“Not just now; but I shouldn’t be surprised to hear from them
again to-morrow night.”
“All right. I’m glad you mentioned it. Now we’ll see if we can’t
have an interesting reception prepared for them.”
“Pizen?” queried Jalap Coombs, who had lighted his pipe and was
now complacently watching the skinning of the dead wolves, which
had been undertaken by the three Indians.
“Worse than that,” answered Phil, significantly.
By the time the Indians had finished their task and breakfast had
been eaten the usual starting-hour had arrived. Two of the wolf-
skins were allotted to the guide, who was to leave them at this
point, and he set forth on his return journey with them on his back.
Rolled in them were the single dried salmon which would form his
sole sustenance on the journey, and the cherished pound of tobacco,
for which he had been willing to work so hard. In his hand he bore
an old flintlock musket that was the pride of his heart, not so much
on account of its shooting qualities, which were very uncertain, as
by reason of its great length. It was the longest gun known to the
dwellers of the Tanana Valley, and consequently the most valuable;
for the Hudson Bay Company’s method of selling such guns was to
exchange one for as many marten, fox, or beaver skins as could be
piled from stock to muzzle when it stood upright.
“I hope the wolves won’t attack his camps,” remarked Phil, as they
watched the lonely figure pass out of sight on the back trail.
“Him no camp,” declared Kurilla.
“But he must. Why, it’s a four-days’ journey to his home.”
“No; one day, one night. Him no stop. Wolf no catch um. Yaas.”
And Kurilla was right, for the Indian would push on over mile after
mile of that frozen solitude without a pause, save for an occasional
bite from his dried salmon, and a handful of snow to wash it down,
until he reached his own far-away home.
 CHAPTER XX
CHITSAH’S NATURAL TELEPHONE

Seventeen green wolf-skins formed a heavy sledge-load, especially

for the weakened dog-teams; but fortunately Jalap Coombs’s feet
were again in condition for walking, and snow on the river was not
yet deep. So it was determined to carry them—at least, for the
present. On the evening following that of the encounter with the
wolves, Phil, leaving the work of preparing camp to the others,
unpacked the Eskimo wolf-traps of compressed whalebone that he
had procured at Makagamoot. He had twenty of the ingenious little
contrivances, and wrapped each one in a strip of frozen wolf-meat
that he had saved and brought along for the purpose. When all were
thus prepared, he carried them about a quarter of a mile from camp,
and then dropped them at short intervals in a great circle about it.
He knew the dogs would not stray that far since their experience of
the night before, and so felt pretty certain that the traps would only
find their way to the destination for which they were intended.
The first blood-chilling howl was heard soon after dark, and a few
minutes later it was apparent that wolves were again gathering from
all quarters. Then the anxious watchers caught occasional glimpses
of dim forms, and sometimes of a pair of gleaming eyes, that
invariably drew a shot from Phil’s rifle. Still the wolves seemed to
remember their lesson, or else they waited for the occupants of the
camp to fall asleep, for they made no effort at an attack.
As time passed the wolf tones began to change, and defiant
howlings to give place to yelps and yells of distress. Soon other
sounds were mingled with these—the fierce snarlings of savage
beasts fighting over their prey. The traps were doing their work.
Those wolves that had eagerly gulped them down were so stricken
with deadly pains that they staggered, fell, and rolled in the snow. At
the first symptoms of distress others sprang upon them and tore
them in pieces, at the same time battling fiercely over their cannibal
feast. So wolf fed wolf, while the night echoed with their hideous
outcries, until finally the survivors, gorged with the flesh of their own
kind, slunk away, and after some hours of bedlam quiet once more
reigned in the forest.
So Phil’s scheme proved a success, and for the remainder of that
night he and his companions slept in peace. At daylight they visited
the scenes of wolfish feasting, and found everywhere plentiful
evidence of what had taken place; but this time they gathered in
neither rugs nor robes, for only blood-stains, bones, and tattered
shreds of fur remained.
Phil’s only regret was that he had not a lot more of those same
useful traps, though, as was afterwards proved, they were not
needed, for never again during their journey did wolves appear in
sufficient numbers to cause them any alarm.
For another week did the sledge party journey down the several
streams that, emptying one into another, finally formed the Conehill
River, or, as the gold-diggers call it, Forty Mile Creek, because its
mouth is forty miles down the Yukon from the old trading-post of
Fort Reliance. As the first half of their long journey drew towards a
close they became anxious as to its results and impatient for its end.
When would they reach the settlement? and could they get there
before their rivals who had followed the Yukon? were the two
questions that they constantly asked of each other, but which none
could answer.
Phil grew almost despondent as he reflected upon the length of
time since they left old Fort Adams, and gave it as his opinion that
the other party must have reached Forty Mile long since.
Serge also feared they had, though he didn’t see how they could.
Jalap Coombs was firm in his belief that the other party was still
far away, and that his would be the first in; for, quoth he, “Luck
allers has been on my side, and I’m going to believe it allers will be.
My old friend Kite Roberson useter say, speaking of luck, and he give
it as his own experience, that them as struck the best kinds of luck
was them as worked the hardest for it; and ef they didn’t get it one
way they was sure to another. Likewise he useter say, Kite did,
consarning worriments, that ef ye didn’t pay no attention to one
’twould be mighty apt to pass ye by; but ef ye encouraged it by so
much as a wink or a nod, ye’d have to fight it to git red of it. So,
seeing as they hain’t no worriments hove in sight yet, what’s the use
in s’arching for ’em?”
As for Kurilla, whenever his opinion was asked, he always grinned
and returned the same answer:
“You come pretty quick, mebbe. Yaas.”
So each day of the last three or four brought its fresh hope; at
each succeeding bend of the stream all eyes were strained eagerly
forward for a sight of the expected cluster of log-huts, and each
night brought an added disappointment.
At length one evening, when Phil, who had pushed on longer than
usual, in an effort to end their suspense, was reluctantly compelled,
by gathering darkness, to go into camp, Chitsah suddenly attracted
attention to himself by running to a tree and pressing an ear to its
trunk. As the others stared at him, a broad smile overspread his
face, and he said something to his father, which the latter instantly
interpreted.
“What?” cried Phil, incredulously. “He thinks he hears the sound of
chopping?”
“Yaas,” answered Kurilla. “Axe, chop um, white men, plenty. Yaas.”
“I, too, can hear something!” exclaimed Serge, who had imitated
Chitsah’s movements, “though I wouldn’t swear it was chopping.”
“Hurrah! So can I!” shouted Phil, after a moment of intent
listening at another tree. “First time, though, I ever knew that the
public telephone service was extended to this country. The sound I
heard might be a train of cars twenty miles away, or a woodpecker
somewhere within sight. No matter. If Chitsah says it’s chopping, it
must be, for he ought to know, seeing that he first heard it with the
aid of the tree-telephone. So let’s go for it. We can afford to travel
an hour or two in the dark for the sake of meeting the white man
who is swinging that axe, can’t we?”
“Of course we can,” replied Serge.
“Aye, aye, sir!” answered Jalap Coombs.
“Mebbe catch um. Yaas,” added Kurilla, sharing the general
enthusiasm.
Even the tired dogs barked, pricked up their sharp ears, sniffed
the air, and did not, seemingly, object to moving on.
So the long teams were again swung into line, the pistol-like
reports of the three sledge-whips rang sharply through the keen air,
and the whole party swept on down the darkening river at a greater
speed than they had made that day.
An hour later, as they rounded a projecting point, Phil uttered an
exulting shout. A cluster of twinkling lights shone dead ahead, and
our travellers knew that their goal was won.
“Let’s give them a volley,” suggested Serge. “It’s the custom of the
country, you know.”
So the guns were taken from their deerskin coverings, and at
Phil’s word of command a roar from double-barrel, flintlock, and
Winchester woke glad echoes from both sides of the broad valley
and from the rugged Yukon cliffs beyond. Then, with whoopings and
cheers and frantic yelpings of dogs, the sledge brigade dashed on
towards the welcoming lights.
“Hello the camp!” yelled Phil, as they approached the dark cluster
of cabins.
“On deck!” roared Jalap Coombs, as though he were hailing a ship
at sea.
 “Hello yourself!” answered a gruff voice—the first hail in their own
tongue that the boys had heard in many a week. “Who are you?
Where do you come from? And what’s all this racket about?”
“White men,” replied Phil, “with dog-sledges, up from Yukon
mouth.”
“Great Scott! You don’t say so! No wonder you’re noisy! Hi, boys!
Here’s the first winter outfit that ever came from Yukon mouth to
Forty Mile. What’s the matter with giving them a salute?”
“Nothing at all!” cried a score of voices, and then volley after
volley rang forth, until it seemed as though every man there must
have carried a loaded gun and emptied it of all six shots in honor of
the occasion.
Men came running from all directions, and before the shooting
ceased the entire population of the camp, some three hundred in
number, were eagerly crowding about the new-comers, plying them
with questions, and struggling for the honor of shaking hands with
the first arrivals of the year.
“Are we really the first to come up the river?” asked Phil.
“To be sure you are. Not only that, but the first to reach the
diggings from any direction since navigation closed. But how did you
come? Not by the river, I know, for when I heard your shooting ’twas
clear away up the creek.”
“We came by the Tanana and across the Divide,” answered Phil.
“There is another party coming by way of the river, though, and we
were afraid they might get in ahead of us.”
“Hark to that, boys! One train just arrived, and another coming! I
tell you, old Forty Mile is right in it. Daily express from all points,
through tickets to Europe, Arup, and Arrap; morning papers and
opera-houses, circus and theaytres. Looks like the boom had struck
us at last. But say, stranger, what is the news from below?”
“New steamer on her way up the river, with saw-mill, mining
machinery, and best stock of goods ever seen in Alaska,” replied Phil,
quick to seize the opportunity, and anxious to make his business
known while he still had the field to himself. “We have come from
her, and are on our way to San Francisco to send up a new stock for
next season. So we have only stopped to take your orders and find
out what will be the most acceptable.”
“Hurrah!” yelled the crowd, wild with excitement. “Send us a
brass-band,” shouted one. “In swaller-tails and white kids,” added
another. “What’s the matter with moving the Palace Hotel up here?”
suggested a third, “seeing as San Francisco isn’t in it any longer with
Forty Mile. Especially send along the café.”
“Come, fellows, let up,” cried the man who had been the first to
welcome the new arrivals, and whose name was Riley. “We mustn’t
keep these gentlemen standing out here in the cold any longer. I
reckon they’re hungry, too, and wondering why we don’t invite ’em
to grub. So, men, just come into my shebang and make yourselves
at home. There isn’t much to it, but such as it is it’s yours, so long
as you’ll honor yours truly.”
“No, come with me,” cried another voice. “I’ve got beans, Boston
baked, fresh from the can.” “I’ve got molasses and soft-tack,” and
“I’ve just made a dish of scouse,” “Come with us,” shouted others.
“No, you don’t!” roared Mr. Riley. “They’re my meat, and they are
going to bunk in with me. But, boys, you can send along your beans
and your dope and your scouse, and whatever else comes handy, for
I’ve only got roast beef and chicken-salad and a few terrapin, and
we want to do this thing up in style. So, ‘all small contributions
thankfully received’ is the word, and if we don’t scare up just the
niftiest spread on the coast this night then my name isn’t Platt Riley,
that’s all.”
 CHAPTER XXI
A YUKON MINING CAMP

The supper provided by the hospitable miners was a good one,

and heartily did our travellers enjoy it; but while they are appeasing
the extraordinary appetites that they acquired somewhere in the
Alaskan wilderness, let us take a look at this most northern of
American mining camps.
To begin with, although it is at the junction of Forty Mile Creek
and the Yukon River, it is not in Alaska, but about twenty miles east
of the boundary in Northwest Territory, which is one of the
subdivisions of Canada. The most recent name of this camp is
“Mitchell,” but all old Yukon miners know it as Camp Forty Mile. At
the time of Phil Ryder’s visit it contained nearly two hundred log-
cabins, two stores, including the one that he established in the name
of his friend Gerald Hamer, two saloons, both of which were closed
for the season, and a small cigar factory. Although the winter
population was only about three hundred, in summer-time it is much
larger, as many of the miners come out in the fall and return before
the 15th of June, at which date, according to Yukon mining law,
every man owning a claim must be on the ground, or it may be
“jumped.”
Forty Mile is what is known as a placer camp, which means that its
gold is found in minute particles or “dust” in soft earth, from which it
can be washed in sluices or rockers. Into one of these a stream of
water is turned that sweeps away all the dirt and gravel, allowing
the heavier gold to sink to the bottom, where it is caught and held
by cross-bars or “riffles.”
 Although gold has been discovered at many points along the
Yukon and its branches, the deposit at Forty Mile is the richest yet
worked, and has paid as high as three hundred dollars to a man for
a single day’s labor. Twelve thousand dollars’ worth of gold was
cleared by one miner in a three months’ season, and a five-hundred-
dollar nugget has been found; but most of the miners are content if
they can make “ounce wages,” or sixteen dollars per day, while the
average for the camp is not over eight dollars per day during the
short season of that arctic region.
Sluices can only be worked during three or four months of
summer-time; then come the terrible eight or nine months of winter
when the mercury thinks nothing of dropping to sixty or seventy
degrees below zero, and the whole world seems made of ice.
Strange as it may appear, the summer weather of this region is very
hot, eighty-five degrees in the shade and one hundred and twelve
degrees in the sun being frequently reached by the mercury. During
the summer months, too, the entire Yukon Valley is as terribly
infested with mosquitoes as is any mangrove swamp of the tropics.
Thus the hardy miner who penetrates it in his search for gold is
made to suffer from one cause or another during every month of the
year.
In spite of the summer heat the ground never thaws to a depth of
more than five or six feet, below which it is solidly frozen beyond
any point yet reached by digging. Under the dense covering of moss,
six to eighteen inches thick, by which the greater part of Alaska is
overspread, it does not thaw more than a few inches. Consequently
the most important item of a Yukon miner’s winter work is the
stripping of this moss from his claim in order that next summer’s sun
may have a chance to thaw it to working depth.
There were no women nor children at Forty Mile, and there were
very few amusements, but there is plenty of hard work in both
summer, when the sun hardly sets at all, and in the winter, when he
barely shows his face above the southern horizon. Besides the
laborious task of moss-stripping, the miner must saw out by hand all
lumber for sluices and rockers. He must build his own cabin and
fashion its rude furniture, besides doing all of his own house-work
and cooking. He also expects to do a certain amount of hunting and
trapping during the winter months, so that his time, unless he be
very lazy, is fully occupied. But lazy men are not apt to reach Forty
Mile, for the journey from Juneau, in southern Alaska, which is the
largest city in the Territory, as well as the nearest outfitting point for
the diggings, is so filled with peril and the roughest kind of hard
work as to deter any but men of the most determined energy.
At Juneau, Yukon travellers provide themselves with an outfit of
snow-shoes, sledges, tents, fur clothing, provisions, and whatever
else seems to them necessary. Starting in the early spring, they
proceed by boat to the Chilkat country, seventy miles distant, and to
the head of Chilkoot Inlet. From there they set forth on a terrible
mountain climb over snow many feet in depth, where they are in
constant danger from avalanches, and cross the coast range by a
pass that rises three thousand feet above timber-line. On the
opposite side they strike the head-waters of the Yukon, which they
follow through a series of six lakes, sledging over their still ice-bound
waters, and rafting down their connecting links, in which are
seething rapids, dark gorges, and roaring cañons, around which all
goods must be carried on men’s backs. After some two hundred
miles of these difficulties have been passed, trees must be felled,
lumber sawed out, and boats constructed for the remaining five
hundred miles of the weary journey.
As it would not pay to transport freight by this route, all provisions
and other supplies for the diggings are shipped from San Francisco
by sea to St. Michaels, where they are transferred to small river
steamers like the Chimo, and so, after being many months on the
way, finally reach their destination. By this time their value has
become so enhanced or “enchanted,” as the miners say, that Phil
Ryder found flour selling for $30 per barrel, bacon at 35 cents per
pound, beans at 25 cents per pound, canned fruit at 60 cents per
pound, coarse flannel shirts at $8 each, rubber boots at $18 per pair,
and all other goods at proportionate rates. Even sledge dogs, such
as he had purchased at Anvik for $5 or $6 each, were here valued at
$25 apiece.
In view of these facts it is no wonder that the news of another
steamer on the river bringing a saw-mill to supply them with lumber,
machinery with which to work the frozen but gold-laden earth of
their claims, and a large stock of goods to be sold at about one-half
the prevailing prices, created a very pleasant excitement among the
miners of that wide-awake camp.
On the day following his arrival, and after a careful survey of the
situation, Phil rented the largest building in the place, paying one
month’s rent in advance, and giving its owner an order on Gerald
Hamer for the balance until the time of the Chimo’s arrival. This
building had been used as a saloon, and was conveniently located
close by the steamboat-landing facing the river. Into it the sledge
party moved all their belongings, including the seventeen wolf-skins,
which now formed rugs for their floor as well as coverings for several
split-log benches. Serge and the two Indians at once started up the
river with the sledges for a supply of firewood, which was a precious
article in Forty Mile at that time, leaving Phil and Jalap Coombs to
clean the new quarters and render them habitable. While the latter,
with a sailor’s neat deftness, attended to this work, Phil busied
himself with a pot of black paint and a long breadth of cotton cloth.
At this he labored with such diligence that in an hour’s time a huge
sign appeared above the entrance to the building and stretched
across its entire front. On it, in letters so large that they could be
plainly read from the river, was painted the legend, “Yukon Trading
Company, Gerald Hamer, Agent.”
This promise of increased business facilities was greeted by a
round of hearty cheers from a group of miners who had assembled
to witness the raising of the new sign, and when Jalap Coombs
finished tacking up his end one of these stepped up to him with a
keen scrutiny. Finally he said, “Stranger, may I be so bold as to ask
who was the best friend you ever had?”
 “Sartain you may,” replied the sailor-man, “seeing as I’m allers
proud to mention the name of old Kite Roberson, and likewise claim
him for a friend.”
“I thought so!” cried the delighted miner, thrusting out a great
hairy paw. “I thought I couldn’t be mistook in that figger-head, and I
knowed if you was the same old Jalap I took ye to be that Kite
Roberson wouldn’t be fur off. Why, matey, don’t you remember the
old brig Betsy? Have you clean forgot Skiff Bettens?”

“WHY, MATEY, DON’T YOU REMEMBER THE OLD BRIG ‘BETSY’?”

“Him that went into the hold and found the fire and put it out, and
was drug up so nigh dead from smoke that he didn’t breathe nateral
agin fur a week? Not much I hain’t forgot him, and I’m nigh about as
glad to see him as if he were old Kite hisself!” exclaimed Jalap
Coombs, in joyous tones. Then he introduced Mr. Skiff Bettens, ex-
sailor and now Yukon miner, to Phil, and pulled him into the house,
and there was no more work to be got out of Jalap Coombs that day.
Phil had also been recognized. That is, Mr. Platt Riley had asked
him if he were the son of his father, and when Phil admitted the
relationship, told him that he had a father to be proud of every
minute of his life. Didn’t he know? for hadn’t he, Platt Riley, worked
side by side with Mr. John Ryder prospecting in South Africa, where
every ounce of grit that a white man had in him was bound to show
itself? “To be certain he had,” and now he was proud to shake the
hand of John Ryder’s son, and if there was anything John Ryder’s
son wanted in that camp, why he, Platt Riley, was the man to get it
for him.
So our sledge travellers found that even in that remote mining
camp, buried from the world beneath the snows of an arctic winter,
they were among friends. This, coupled with all that they had
undergone in reaching it, made it seem to them a very pleasant and
comfortable place in which to rest awhile.
And it was necessary that they should stay there for a time. They
must cultivate friendly business relations with the miners on Gerald
Hamer’s account, and find out what class of goods were most in
demand; for never until now had Phil realized the responsibility with
which he had been intrusted. He must prepare a full report to send
back by Kurilla and Chitsah, who could not be tempted to venture
any farther away from their homes. The dogs must be well rested
before they would be fitted for the second and most difficult half of
the long journey. Above all, Phil felt that, as representative of the
Yukon Trading Company, he must be on hand to meet the agents of
its old-established rival, and defend his far-away friend from the
false reports they were certain to spread concerning him.
He wondered why Goldollar and Strengel did not appear, and
dreaded to meet them, but at the same time longed to have the
disagreeable encounter over with as quickly as possible. So, many
times each day did he gaze long and fixedly across the broad white
plain of the Yukon. At length, on the eighth day after their arrival at
Forty Mile, his eye was caught by some moving black dots that he
felt certain must be the expected sledges.
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