From the time of the first white man, famine loomed black and gloomy over the land.  It was chronic with the Indians and Eskimos; it became chronic with the gold hunters.  It was ever present, and so it came about that life was commonly expressed in terms of “grub”—­was measured by cups of flour.  Each winter, eight months long, the heroes of the frost faced starvation.  It became the custom, as fall drew on, for partners to cut the cards or draw straws to determine which should hit the hazardous trail for salt water, and which should remain and endure the hazardous darkness of the Arctic night.

There was never food enough to winter the whole population.  The A. C. Company worked hard to freight up the grub, but the gold hunters came faster and dared more audaciously.  When the A. C. Company added a new stern-wheeler to its fleet, men said, “Now we shall have plenty.”  But more gold hunters poured in over the passes to the south, more voyageurs and fur traders forced a way through the Rockies from the east, more seal hunters and coast adventurers poled up from Bering Sea on the west, more sailors deserted from the whale-ships to the north, and they all starved together in right brotherly fashion.  More steamers were added, but the tide of prospectors welled always in advance.  Then the N. A. T. & T. Company came upon the scene, and both companies added steadily to their fleets.  But it was the same old story; famine would not depart.  In fact, famine grew with the population, till, in the winter of 1897-1898, the United States government was forced to equip a reindeer relief expedition.  As of old, that winter partners cut the cards and drew straws, and remained or pulled for salt water as chance decided.  They were wise of old time, and had learned never to figure on relief expeditions.  They had heard of such things, but no mortal man of them had ever laid eyes on one.

The hard luck of other mining countries pales into insignificance before the hard luck of the North.  And as for the hardship, it cannot be conveyed by printed page or word of mouth.  No man may know who has not undergone.  And those who have undergone, out of their knowledge, claim that in the making of the world God grew tired, and when He came to the last barrowload, “just dumped it anyhow,” and that was how Alaska happened to be.  While no adequate conception of the life can be given to the stay-at-home, yet the men themselves sometimes give a clue to its rigours.  One old Minook miner testified thus:  “Haven’t you noticed the expression on the faces of us fellows?  You can tell a new-comer the minute you see him; he looks alive, enthusiastic, perhaps jolly.  We old miners are always grave, unless were drinking.”