the sensational riches of Franklin Gulch came the murder
of an old Frenchman named La Salle. Tanana Indians committed the crime
in 1886. They crossed the mountains to Forty Mile, and killed La Salle
in his cabin at the mouth of O'Brian Creek. With axes and bludgeons the
old Frenchman's head was crushed beyond recognition.

Three months later the snow lay thick upon the ground. Upon the branches
of trees it persistently hung, each added layer clinging tenaciously
because there was no breath of wind to send it to the ground.
Occasionally a dead twig, weighted too heavily by the increasing fall
of snow, broke suddenly and dropped noiselessly into a bed of feathery
flakes, thus joining its sleeping companions, the leaves.

[Illustration: ON BONANZA CREEK.]

It was in January that two men might have been seen following their
dog-teams down a frozen stream emptying into Forty Mile River. They
wished to reach the mouth of the creek before they halted for the night.
They had heard of a cabin in which they planned to spend the night,
although it was a deserted one, and they were almost at the desired
point.

The men were Swedes. They were strong and hardy fellows, and although
frost covered their clothing and hung in icicles about their faces, they
ran contentedly behind the dog-teams in the semi-darkness, as only the
snow-light remained.

"Hello!" called out Swanson finally to his companion. "Is that the
place, do you think?" pointing to the dim shape of a log cabin a little
ahead.

"Guess it is, but we'll find out. I'm nearly starved, and must stop
soon, any way," said Nelson decidedly. "It's no use for us to travel
further tonight."

"So I think," was the reply, as the dogs halted before the door, and the
men entered the cabin. Here they found a good-sized room, containing one
window. There was evidently a room on the other side, but with no
connecting door, the two cabins having been built together to save
laying one wall.

"This is good enough for me, and much warmer than a tent--we'll stay
here till morning, and take the dogs inside," said kind-hearted Nelson,
already unhitching the dogs from a sled.

Swanson did the same. The next moment their small store was carried into
the cabin, wood was collected, and a cheery fire soon roared up the
chimney.

After the men had eaten their supper and the dogs had been fed, pipes
were brought out; and, stretching themselves upon their fur sleeping
bags before the fire,