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diff --git a/44077-h/44077-h.htm b/44077-h/44077-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ece3c1b --- /dev/null +++ b/44077-h/44077-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,6050 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of Adventures in Alaska, by S. Hall Young, D.D. + </title> + + <link rel="coverpage" href="images/image1-coverpage.jpg" /> + + <style type="text/css"> + +body { + margin-left: 15%; + margin-right: 15%; +} + +.title-page +{ + text-align: center; + page-break-before: always; + page-break-after: always; +} + + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; +} +h1 +{ + text-align: center; + font-size: x-large; + font-weight: normal; + line-height: 1.6; +} + +h1.small +{ + font-size: small; +} + +.center +{ + text-align: center; +} + +.spaced +{ + line-height: 1.5; +} + +.space-above + +{ + margin-top: 3em; +} + +.big +{ + font-size: large; +} + +img.border +{ + border: 1px solid; +} + +.dropcap {float: left; width: .8em; font-size: 150%; line-height: 15%; margin-top: .51em;} + +span.dropcap { + padding-right: 3px; + font-size: 150%; + line-height: 15%; + width: .8em; + margin-top: .51em; + font-weight: bold; +} + +p { + margin-top: .51em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .49em; +} + +.p2 {margin-top: 2em;} +.p4 {margin-top: 4em;} +.p6 {margin-top: 6em;} + +hr { + width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: 33.5%; + margin-right: 33.5%; + clear: both; +} + +hr.tb {width: 45%; margin-left: 27.5%; margin-right: 27.5%;} +hr.chap {width: 65%; margin-left: 17.5%; margin-right: 17.5%;} +hr.full {width: 95%;} + +hr.r5 {width: 5%; margin-top: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em;} +hr.r65 {width: 65%; margin-top: 3em; margin-bottom: 3em;} + +.pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; +} /* page numbers */ + +.bb {border-bottom: solid 2px;} + +.bl {border-left: solid 2px;} + +.bt {border-top: solid 2px;} + +.br {border-right: solid 2px;} + +.center {text-align: center;} + +.right {text-align: right;} + +.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + +/* Images */ +.figcenter { + margin: auto; + text-align: center; +} + +table.centered { + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; +} + +.bbox {border: solid black 1px; margin-left: 25%; margin-right: 25%} +.bbox1 {margin: 4em} + +@media handheld { +.bbox {border: solid black 1px; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;} +.bbox1 {margin: 1em} +} + +/* Poetry */ +.poem { + margin-left:15%; + margin-right:15%; + text-align: left; +} + +.poem br {display: none;} + +.poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem span.i0 {display: block; margin-left: 0em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i2 {display: block; margin-left: 1em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i4 {display: block; margin-left: 2em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + +/* Transcriber's notes */ +.transnote {background-color: #E6E6FA; + color: black; + font-size:smaller; + padding:0.5em; + margin-bottom:5em; + font-family:sans-serif, serif; } + + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Adventures in Alaska, by Samuel Hall Young + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license + + +Title: Adventures in Alaska + +Author: Samuel Hall Young + +Release Date: November 1, 2013 [EBook #44077] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ADVENTURES IN ALASKA *** + + + + +Produced by Charlene Taylor, Chris Whitehead, Linda Cantoni +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images +generously made available by The Internet Archive/Canadian +Libraries) + + + + + + +</pre> + + + + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<h1>Adventures in Alaska</h1> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<div class="bbox"><div class="bbox1"> +<p class="center">By</p> + +<p class="center"><big>S. HALL YOUNG, D.D.</big></p> + + +<p><em>Alaska Days with John Muir.</em> Illustrated, +12mo, cloth....</p> + +<p>"Do you remember Stickeen, the +canine hero of John Muir's dog story? +Here is a book by the man who owned +Stickeen and was Muir's companion on +the adventurous trip among the Alaskan +glaciers. This is not only a breezy +outdoor book, full of the wild beauties +of the Alaskan wilderness, it is also a +living portrait of John Muir in the great +moments of his career."—<em>New York +Times.</em></p> + +<p>"I can see only one fault with the +book, it is far too short. I should love to +read such a book as big as the dictionary. +Thank you very much!"—<em>Gene +Stratton-Porter.</em></p> + +<p>"One need not be an admirer of John +Muir to be thoroughly entertained by the +lively pages. The Muir of this book is +the familiar vibrant personality. This +little book, the record of these trips, is +written in a style animated and vivid +without being journalistic—a style not +unlike that of the lover of glaciers +himself."—<em>The Nation.</em></p> +</div></div> + +<div class="title-page" style="margin-bottom: 2em;"> +<h2>Adventures in Alaska</h2> + +<p class="center" style="margin-bottom: 1em;">By</p> + + +<p class="center" style="margin-bottom: 1em;"><big>S. HALL YOUNG</big></p> + +<p class="center"><em>Author of "Alaska Days with John Muir,"</em></p> +<p class="center" style="margin-bottom: 4em;"><em>"The Klondike Clan"</em></p> + +<p class="center" style="margin-bottom: 4em;"><span class="smcap">Illustrated</span><br /></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 30px;"> +<img class="border" style="margin-bottom: 4em;" src="images/image1.jpg" width="30" height="44" alt="Trademark of Fleming H. Revell Company" /> +</div> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">New York Chicago</span></p> +<p class="center">Fleming H. Revell Company</p> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">London and Edinburgh</span></p> +</div> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p class="center" style="margin-top: 2em;">Copyright, 1919, by</p> +<p class="center" style="margin-bottom: 12em;">FLEMING H. REVELL COMPANY</p> + +<div style="margin-bottom: 2em; text-align: justify;"> +<p style="margin-left: 37%;">New York: 158 Fifth Avenue</p> +<p style="margin-left: 37%;">Chicago: 17 North Wabash Ave.</p> +<p style="margin-left: 37%;">London: 21 Paternoster Square</p> +<p style="margin-left: 37%;">Edinburgh: 75 Princes Street</p> +</div> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<a name="walrus" id="walrus"><img class="border" style="margin-top: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em;" src="images/image2.jpg" width="600" height="393" alt="Stalking Walrus in an Oomiak" /> +</a></div> +<p class="center">Stalking Walrus in an Oomiak</p> + +<p class="center" style="margin-bottom: 1em;">Dr. Young's figure is to the left. This is +the time he got his ivory for the gavels</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + + +<h2>Foreword</h2> + + +<p><span class="dropcap">T</span><span class="smcap">he</span> author puts forth this little book +of actual adventures in the great +new land of Alaska with the hope +that it will afford healthy-minded young +people a true idea of some phases of human +and animal life there. These stories are +picked out of an experience of forty years +and selected with a view to both unity and +variety.</p> + +<p>The first three chapters are an attempt to +draw in bold outline some dramatic episodes +of the author's experience in the second of +the three great gold stampedes of the Northwest. +All these struggles for gold have in +them richly dramatic elements. Life in +such camps pulses strongly with all human +ambitions, affections and passions. The +missionary, if he is really to commend himself +to the men who rush into the wilderness +for gold, and do them good, must, first of +all, prove himself a <em>man</em>, ready and able to do +and suffer everything that falls to the lot of +the gold seekers. He must live their life +and play the game with them. He must +cheerfully put up with the privations they +endure, must take the lead in their healthy +sports, must alleviate their sufferings, and, +keeping himself free from the deadly +gold-lust, must show that he has in himself and +can give to his fellow pioneers something +better than gold. His heart must be, for +himself and those about him, a living +fountain of joy and peace.</p> + +<p>As in his earlier work, "The Klondike +Clan," the author endeavored to draw a true +picture not only of the life and conditions +of the first Northwestern gold-rush, but also +of the minister's aims and field of duty; so in +this short sketch of the second Stampede his +aim has been, above all things, <em>truth</em>. Every +incident is actual history, and even the +names are real. The dog story is also +conscientiously true history, and belongs to +one of the minor gold stampedes.</p> + +<p>The second section of the book—the three +bear stories and the walrus story—are also +bits of history. Every pioneer missionary +in Alaska should be an ardent hunter. The +author's life has often depended upon his +gun and fishing tackle. For ten years in +Southeastern Alaska he and his family had +no beef or pork or mutton, but the game—animals, +birds and fish—more than made up +for the lack of these.</p> + +<p>In Interior Alaska the same conditions +prevail. The wild animals furnish not only +the food of the people, both natives and +whites, but also their winter clothing. Life +would be unbearable there in "sixty-below +weather" were the inhabitants unable to +procure the warm coats provided by kindly +Mother Nature for the use both of her +four-footed and her human children.</p> + +<p>The Eskimo faces the hardest conditions +of almost any native race in his battle for +life; and yet he is, perhaps, the most +comfortable of any. He gets his living from the +Arctic seas, the seal and walrus being his +main dependence. From the great walrus +he gets meat, clam chowder, light and fuel; +its skin makes his foot-wear, the walls and +roof of his house, and his boats; its ivory +furnishes his tools and implements of the +chase. When the author and his friends +brought the great supply of walrus meat to +the Eskimo village of East Cape they insured +the life and comfort of its inhabitants +for the winter. All this is an essential part +of a missionary's beneficent work. Good +service for God and humanity is not +inconsistent with the joy of the chase.</p> + +<p>As the author confidently expects that +many of his young readers will find their +permanent homes in "The great big, broad +land 'way up yonder," he hopes this book +may prove, in some degree, an introduction +to the enjoyments and achievements of the +life there.</p> + + +<p style="margin-bottom: 1em;">S. H. Y.<br /> + +<em>New York.</em><br /> +</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<h2>Contents</h2> + +<table class="centered" border="0" cellpadding="10" width="60%" summary="Contents"> +<tr><td><a href="#ChI">I.</a></td> <td><span class="smcap">The Nome Stampede</span></td> <td style="text-align: right;">13</td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#ChII">II.</a></td> <td><span class="smcap">The Anvil</span></td> <td style="text-align: right;">33</td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#ChIII">III.</a></td> <td><span class="smcap">Bunch-grass Bill</span></td> <td style="text-align: right;">49</td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#ChIV">IV.</a></td> <td><span class="smcap">My Dogs</span></td> <td style="text-align: right;">76</td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#ChV">V.</a></td> <td><span class="smcap">Louie Paul and the Hootz</span></td> <td style="text-align: right;">100</td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#ChVI">VI.</a></td> <td><span class="smcap">Old Snook and the Cow</span></td> <td style="text-align: right;">112</td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#ChVII">VII.</a></td> <td><span class="smcap">Nina and the Bears</span></td> <td style="text-align: right;">131</td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#ChVIII">VIII.</a></td> <td><span class="smcap">The Absurd Walrus</span></td> <td style="text-align: right;">153</td></tr> +</table> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<h2>Illustrations</h2> + +<table class="centered" border="0" cellpadding="10" width="60%" summary="Illustrations"> +<tr><td><a href="#walrus"><span class="smcap">Stalking Walrus in an Oomiak</span></a></td><td style="text-align: right;"><em>Frontispiece</em></td></tr> +<tr><td> </td> <td style="text-align: right;"><span class="smcap"><em>Facing page</em></span></td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#nome"><span class="smcap">Nome, Alaska, Summer of 1900</span></a></td><td style="text-align: right;">28</td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#anvil"><span class="smcap">Anvil Rock, Overlooking Nome</span></a></td><td style="text-align: right;">36</td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#eskimo"><span class="smcap">The Odoriferous but Interesting Eskimo</span></a></td><td style="text-align: right;">48</td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#dog"><span class="smcap">Dr. Young and His Dog Team</span></a></td><td style="text-align: right;">80</td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#wrangell"><span class="smcap">Fort Wrangell, Alaska, on Etolin Harbor</span></a></td><td style="text-align: right;">100</td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#totem"><span class="smcap">Native Houses, Showing Totem Poles</span></a></td><td style="text-align: right;">118</td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#bears"><span class="smcap">Five Kodiak Bears</span></a></td><td style="text-align: right;">148</td></tr> +</table> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2><a name="ChI" id="ChI">CHAPTER I</a></h2> + +<p class="center"><big>THE NOME STAMPEDE</big></p> + + +<p><span class="dropcap">I</span><span class="smcap">t</span> was with the excitement of a veteran +soldier going into a fresh battle that I +teetered over the springy plank from +the Rampart shore to the deck of the Yukon +River steamboat. My year's outfit of "grub +and duds," as the miners would put it, was +aboard. I grasped the hand of Dr. Koonce, +with whom I had just floated in an open boat +down the Yukon twelve hundred miles. A +fine fellow—"Kooncie"! We had been +camping, and fishing, and packing, and boating +together since the first of May, 1899, and +it was now the middle of August. He was +to stay at the new mining town of Rampart, +build a church there and learn the joyous +life of a pioneer missionary.</p> + +<p>What a queer mix-up of men on the +crowded decks of the steamboat! Wild +rumors of a ridiculous sort had reached the +ears of gold hunters clear up the two thousand +miles of the swift and crooked Yukon +to Dawson. Gold! Not snugly reposing in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span> +the frozen gravel of deep gulches and +canyons cut through the high hills—where +respectable and orthodox gold ought to be; +but gold on the wind-swept, stormy, treeless, +exposed coast of Seward Peninsula—the +tongue that impudent young Alaska +sticks out at old Asia. Gold, like yellow +corn-meal, in the beach-sands of Bering Sea, +where nobody could lawfully stake a claim, +but where anybody could go with shovel, +pan and rocker and gather it up. Nuggets +a-plenty and coarse gold—enticing shallow +diggings—in the bed of Anvil Creek and +other creeks and runlets in the hills, and the +flat tundra about Nome.</p> + +<p>The reports of the new "strike," often +wild and exaggerated, came as a life-saver +to weary and discouraged thousands of +Klondikers, who had packed their outfits over +the terrible thirty miles of the Chilcoot Pass +in the fall of '97 or the spring of '98, sawed +the lumber themselves in the "armstrong +sawmill," sailed their clumsy boats through +the lakes, shot the rapids of the Upper +Yukon, spent the summer of '98 and the +winter that followed surging here and there +on "wildcat" stampedes or putting down +"dry" holes on unprofitable lays, and were<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span> +now eagerly snatching at this new straw, +hoping to "strike it" on the Nome beach. +From Dawson, Forty Mile, Eagle, Circle, +Fort Yukon; from wood camps and +prospectors' tents along the Yukon, and now +from Rampart, these bearded, battered, +sun-blistered men came rushing aboard the +steamboat.</p> + +<p>I had engaged a state-room before the +steamboat arrived, but when it came a +placard of the company owning the boat +menaced us in the office: "<em>All reservations +cancelled. Boat overcrowded. No passengers to +be taken at Rampart</em>."</p> + +<p>Of course there was a mighty howl from +the Rampart men, nearly half of whom had +packed up to go on the boat. I hurried to +the purser, whom I knew, and showed my +pass from the manager of the company.</p> + +<p>"Can't help it, Doctor," he said in a loud +tone, for the benefit of the bystanders. +"The boat's past her limit now, and we're +liable for big damages if anything happens. +We can't take <em>anybody</em>."</p> + +<p>Presently he slyly pulled my arm, and I +followed him to an inner office of the store. +"Get your goods aboard," he directed. +"You can spread your blankets on the floor<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span> +of my office."</p> + +<p>While I was checking off my outfit and +seeing it on board, I noticed a lot of the +Rampart men, with hand-trucks gathered +from the various stores, taking their own +outfits aboard, ignoring the shipping clerk +and dumping their goods wherever they +found a place to put them. The officers and +deck-hands were protesting and swearing, +but the men went right along loading their +outfits.</p> + +<p>Presently the captain pulled the whistle +rope and ordered the plank drawn in and +the cable cast off from the "dead man." +Instantly three men marched to the cable's +end, seized the man who was to cast it off +and held him. Then fully fifty men with +their packs on their backs filed down the +plank. The first mate tried to stop them. +He even made a move to draw his pistol; +but the foremost man—a big six-footer—threw +his arms around him and carried him +back against the stairway and held him until +the men with their packs were all aboard. +It was all done quietly, and with the utmost +good humor. The men grinned up at the +swearing, red-faced captain on the upper +deck, and one shouted, "We'll give you a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span> +poke of dust, Cap., when we get to +Nome."</p> + +<p>When all were aboard, somebody on the +bank cast off the cable, the swift current +caught the boat, the wheel backed, and we +swung around and headed down the Yukon, +bound for the new strike.</p> + +<p>Whiskers were very much in evidence in +that closely packed mob of men that stood +around on all the decks, stepping on each +other's feet, perching on stairways, boxes, +pole-bunks—anywhere for a resting place. +To go from one part of the boat to another +was a difficult proposition.</p> + +<p>The most evident trait of the crowd was +its good nature. The deck-hands, among +whom I recognized a lawyer friend from +Dawson and a former customs collector +from Juneau, were gold-seekers like all +the rest; and it was, "Hello, Shorty!" +"Ah, there, Dutch!" "Where you goin', +Jim?" between them and the newcomers. +A rollicking, happy-go-lucky crowd, all joyful +at being on the way to the new diggings. +Even the officers of the boat began to smile, +secretly pleased that they had a record-breaking +and most profitable load aboard, +and were free from blame for overloading,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span> +because they could not help it.</p> + +<p>As for me, I was well content, even to be +hustled and jostled and elbow-punched by +this horde of scraggly-bearded men of the +northwestern wilderness. This was my +parish, my home; and these were my comrades, +my chums, my brothers. I was just +as sunburned and weather-beaten as they +were, and felt the same tingling of nerves, +the same leap of the blood at the call of +fresh adventure.</p> + +<p>I was dressed in the same sort of rough +woolen mackinaw clothes and soft flannel +underwear as the men around me. I had +left my clerical suit and white shirts and +collars behind, for three reasons: First, for +the sake of economy. These strong, loose +garments did not cost a third as much as +broadcloth, and would wear twice as well. +Besides, it would cost a dollar and a half to +have a white shirt laundered in Interior +Alaska (which, at that time, was twice the +original cost of the shirt), and twenty-five +cents to do up a collar, the cost price of +which "outside" was three for a quarter. +I could wash my flannel shirts myself. Second, +for comfort's sake. The soft wool of +these garments was so much warmer and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span> +more pliable than a "Prince Albert" suit; +and a starched collar would sear one's neck +like fire, when it was "sixty below." My +chief reason, however, was that I wished to +create no artificial barriers between my +parishioners and myself. I wished to stand +on the same social level. I desired these +men to feel that I was one of them, and +could camp and "rustle," carry a pack, live +on rabbits and rough it generally as deftly +and cheerfully as they—live the same outdoor +life and endure the same so-called +"hardships."</p> + +<p>The view-point of these "sour-doughs" +was shown in a funny way at our first landing +place after leaving Rampart, which was +the little town of Tanana. When the boat +tied up, the whistle gave three sharp hoots, +showing that the stay would be very short. +As soon as the plank was ashore a man ran +up it, and when he reached the deck he +called loudly: "Is there a preacher aboard? +Is there a preacher aboard?"</p> + +<p>A grizzled old miner, who did not know +me, pointed to the only man on the steamboat +who wore a Prince Albert coat and +white shirt and collar, and drawled: "Wa-al, +that there feller, he's either a preacher or a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span> +gambler; I don't know which."</p> + +<p>The "dressed-up" man proved to be a +gambler. I made myself known to the +anxious man from the village, followed him +ashore and married him to a woman who +was waiting in the company's office.</p> + +<p>That was one voyage of mingled discomfort +and pleasure. Discomforts and hardships +are as you make them and take them. +There were a few of that company who +grumbled and swore at being crowded, at +being obliged to stand up all day, to lie on +the floor or on the piles of cord-wood at +night, besides being compelled to fairly fight +for their meals or to get their food from +their own kits. But the majority of these +men had been camping and roughing it for +two years. Many of them had packed heavy +loads over the Chilcoot Pass in the great +Klondike Stampede, had made their own +boats and navigated hundreds of miles of +unknown and dangerous rivers, had encountered +and overcome thousands of untried +experiences. To all of them these little +discomforts were trifles to be dismissed with +a smile or joke, and they had contempt for +any man who fussed or complained.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span></p> + +<p>One of the cheeriest of the crowd aboard +the steamboat was a newsboy twelve or thirteen +years old. His name was Joe: I never +knew his surname. He had had a very wonderful +time. The year before—the summer +of 1898—he was selling papers in Seattle. +He heard of the high prices paid for newspapers +and magazines at the camps of the +Northwest. He bought three or four hundred +copies of the Seattle P. I. (<em>Post Intelligencer</em>) +and <em>Times</em>. He paid two and +a half and three cents apiece for them, the +selling price at Seattle being five cents. +Then he got five or six hundred back numbers +of these papers, from a day to a week +old, for nothing. He also got, mostly by +gift from those who had read them, three +or four hundred of the cheaper magazines, +some new, some a month or two old. For +his whole stock he paid scarcely fifteen +dollars.</p> + +<p>Joe smuggled himself and his papers +aboard a steamboat bound for Skagway, and +worked his passage as cabin boy, waiter and +general roustabout. At Juneau and Skagway +he sold about one-fourth of his papers +and magazines—the papers for twenty-five +cents each and the ten-cent magazines for +fifty cents. He could have sold out, but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span> +hearing that he could get double these prices +at Dawson and down the Yukon, held on to +his stock.</p> + +<p>He formed a partnership with an old +"sour-dough" miner, who helped him get +his papers over the Chilcoot Pass and down +the Yukon to Dawson. At the great Klondike +camp he quickly sold out his papers at +a dollar each, and the magazines at a dollar +and a half to two and a half.</p> + +<p>Joe spent the winter of 1898-9 at Dawson, +selling the two papers published in that city +and running a general news stand, in which +he sold the reading matter he had sold before +but gathered up again from the buyers. +Sometimes he sold the same magazine four +or five times.</p> + +<p>When the Nome Stampede began, Joe got +into the good graces of the manager of the +steamboat company and got free passage +down the Yukon. He shared my wolf-robe +on the floor of the purser's room, and we +became great chums. The boy was so +bright and quick, and at the same time so +polite and accommodating, that he made +friends everywhere. He was a Sunday-school +boy, and distributed my little red +hymn-books when I held service in the social<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span> +hall of the steamboat on Sunday, and his +clear soprano sounded sweetly above the +bass notes of the men.</p> + +<p>"Joe," I asked him one day, "how much +money have you made during the last year +and a half?"</p> + +<p>"Well," he replied, "I sent two thousand +dollars out home from Dawson before I +started down here, and with what I am +making on this trip and what I hope to make +at Nome, I think I'll have five thousand +dollars clear when I land at Seattle the last +of October."</p> + +<p>"That's a dangerous amount of money +for a small boy to have," I warned him. +"Have you lost any of it?"</p> + +<p>Joe grinned. "No, I dassen't. Some +card sharps tried to get me to gamble at +Dawson. They said I could double my +money. But my partner [the old miner] +said he'd lick me half to death if I ever went +near the green tables. I didn't want to, +anyhow. Everybody helps me take care of +my money."</p> + +<p>"What are you going to do with it?"</p> + +<p>"Why, give it all to mother, of course. +She'll use it for me and my sister. I'm +going to school as soon as I get home.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span> +Mother works in a store, but I guess this +money'll give her a rest. She needs it."</p> + +<p>A word more about little Joe before I +leave him. He made good at Nome in September, +and sailed for Seattle the last of +October. The last I heard of him, four or +five years later, he was making his way +through the University of Washington, and +still managing newspaper routes in Seattle. +His is a case of exceptional good fortune; +and yet I know of a number of boys who +have made remarkable sums selling papers +in Alaska. It is a boy's land of opportunity +as well as a man's.</p> + +<p>Our voyage to St. Michael was a tedious +one—down the long stretches of the Lower +Yukon, worming through the sand-bars and +muddy shallows of the interminable delta, +waiting through weary hours for tide and +wind to be just right before venturing out +on Bering Sea. Hurrying at last under full +steam through the choppy sea, with the +waves washing the lower deck and producing +panic, uproar and swearing among the +men packed upon it—we came to the harbor +of St. Michael on the wind-swept, treeless, +mossy shore of Norton Sound.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span></p> + +<p>I was still to work my way through a +tangle of delays and adventures before I +could reach my goal—the great new camp +at Nome, one hundred and thirty miles from +St. Michael.</p> + +<p>I had first to get my outfit together on the +wharf, counting the boxes and war bags, +pursuing the missing ones to other outfits +and proving my claim to them. In the confusion +this was a hard job, but I only lost +two or three of my boxes. I piled my goods +in a corner of the big warehouse of the +North American Trading and Transportation +Co., and set up my tent on the beach, +for I was near the end of my money, and +could not pay the high prices charged at the +hotels. I got into my camp kit and did my +own cooking, protecting my food as best I +could against the thievish Eskimo dogs.</p> + +<p>Then began a search, which lasted a week, +for means of getting to Nome. The gold-hunters +were putting off every day in whale +boats, Eskimo <em>oomiaks</em>, and small sloops and +schooners; but these craft were too small +and uncertain for me to risk passage in +them. My caution proved wise, for five or +six of these small boats, after setting out, +were never heard of again.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span></p> + +<p>While I was waiting, the U. S. Revenue +Cutter, <em>Bear</em>, came into the harbor, and +aboard her was Sheldon Jackson, Superintendent +of Education for Alaska, the noted +pioneer missionary. He was just returning +from a tour of the native schools and reindeer +stations. (He was the man who had +introduced the reindeer into Alaska from +Siberia to supply the wants of the Eskimo.)</p> + +<p>"Hurry on to Nome," he counseled me. +"You were never needed more in all your +life."</p> + +<p>At length there limped into the harbor a +little tub-like side-wheel steamboat, belonging +to the Alaska Exploration Company, +whose wharf was a mile and a half +distant up the harbor. There was no way +of getting my goods across the swampy +tundra of St. Michael Island to the wharf. +On the beach I found an abandoned old rowboat +with open seams. I procured pieces of +boards, some oakum and pitch, and set to +work to repair the old boat. The steamboat +was to sail for Nome the next forenoon. +I worked all night. I made a pair +of clumsy oars out of boards. Then I carried +my goods to the leaky boat and rowed +them to the dock. It took three trips to +transfer my outfit, and while I was rowing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span> +back and forth somebody carried off my +most valuable war-bag, containing most of +my foot-wear and underclothes—one hundred +dollars' worth.</p> + +<p>I was a tired man when I stumbled down +the steep stairs into the dark and stuffy hold +of the little steamboat; and much more tired +when, after two and a half days of seasickness, +bobbing up and down in the choppy +seas like a man on a bucking broncho, I +pulled up the stairs again and let myself +down the rope-ladder into the dory which +was to take the passengers ashore at Nome.</p> + +<p>"You can only take what you can carry +on your back," announced the captain. +"There's a storm coming up and I've got +to hurry to the lee of Sledge Island, twenty +miles away. You'll get your outfits when I +come back. Lucky we're not all down in +Davy Jones's locker."</p> + +<p>I strapped my pack-sack, containing my +wolf-robe and a pair of blankets, on my +back, glad to get ashore on any terms. The +dory wallowed heavily in the waves, the +strong wind driving it towards the sandy +beach. Boats have to anchor from one to +two miles offshore at Nome. When we +reached the beach, a big wave lifted the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span> +dory and swung it sideways. The keel +struck the sand, and she turned over, dumping +us all out, the comber overwhelming us +and rolling us over and over like barrels. +Drenched and battered, we crawled to +land.</p> + +<p>A heavy rain was falling as I staggered +up the beach with my water-soaked blankets +on my back, looking for a lodging-house. +The beach was lined with tents, placed without +regard to order or the convenience of +anybody except the owner of each tent. A +few straggling board-shacks were stuck here +and there on the swampy tundra. Two or +three large, low store buildings represented +the various pioneer trading companies. +The one street, which ran parallel to the +beach, was full of mud. The buildings most +in evidence were saloons, generally with +dance-hall attachments. The absence of +trees, the leaden, weeping sky, the mud, the +swampy tundra, the want of all light and +beauty, made this reception the dreariest of +all my experiences in the new mining camps.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<a name="nome" id="nome"><img class="border" style="margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 1em;" src="images/image3.jpg" width="600" height="367" alt="Nome, Alaska, Summer of 1900" /> +</a></div> +<p class="center">Nome, Alaska, Summer of 1900</p> + +<p class="center" style="margin-bottom: 2em;">A city of tents, twenty miles long</p> + +<p>But I long ago learned that nothing is so +bad but that it might be worse. I had not +at that time seen Edmund Vance Cook's +sturdy lines, but the spirit of them was in my<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span> +heart:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Did you tackle the trouble that came your way<br /></span> +<span class="i4">With a resolute heart and cheerful,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or hide your face from the light of day<br /></span> +<span class="i4">With a craven heart and fearful?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, a trouble's a ton or a trouble's an ounce,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Or a trouble is what you make it;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And it isn't the fact that you're hurt that counts,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">But only, how did you take it!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>I soon found a sign written in charcoal on +the lid of a paper box—<em>Lodging</em>. I entered +the rough building and found a cheery Irish +woman named M'Grath. There was no +furniture in the house except two or three +cheap chairs and a home-made board table.</p> + +<p>"Shure, ye can," she answered in reply to +my question about spending the night there. +"Ye'll spread yer robe an' blankets on the +flure, an' it'll only cost ye a dollar an' four +bits. Ye'll plaze pay in advance."</p> + +<p>I took stock of the contents of my pocketbook. +There was just five dollars and a +quarter left of the thousand dollars with +which I had started from home on the first +of May. It was now the first of September, +and no more money was due me until the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span> +next spring. My food and tent were on the +steamboat and would not be likely to come +ashore for many days. It was Sunday evening, +and a whole week must elapse before I +could take up a collection.</p> + +<p>I paid my landlady and she put my +blankets by her stove to dry. I paid another +dollar and a half for a supper of beans and +flap-jacks—the first food I had tasted for +three days. I slept soundly that night on +the floor, without a care or anxiety. The +next morning I paid another dollar and a +half for breakfast, and could not resist the +temptation of purchasing a Seattle paper +(only three weeks old—what a luxury!). I +had just twenty-five cents left—and I was a +stranger in this strange corner of the earth!</p> + +<p>I could not help laughing at my predicament +as I entered the Alaska Exploration +Company's store. A bearded man standing +by the stove bade me "good-morning."</p> + +<p>"You seem to be pleased about something," +he said. "Have you struck it rich?"</p> + +<p>"Well, yes!" I replied; "a rich joke on +me," and I told him of the fix I was in.</p> + +<p>"What? You are Dr. Young?" he exclaimed, +shaking me heartily by the hand.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span> +"Why, I'm a Presbyterian elder from San +Francisco."</p> + +<p>The man's name was Fickus, a carpenter, +who had come to Nome to build the store +and warehouses of one of the big companies. +He had held the first religious meetings in +the new camp and had found quite a circle of +Christian people.</p> + +<p>He offered to lend me money, but I refused +to take it. "No," I said, "let us wait +and see what happens."</p> + +<p>Something happened very quickly. While +we were talking a young man entered the +store and came up to me.</p> + +<p>"I understand that you are a minister," +he said.</p> + +<p>"Yes," I replied. "What can I do for +you?"</p> + +<p>"You can marry me to the best woman +in Alaska."</p> + +<p>"Is she here?" I asked, with a triumphant +smile at Fickus.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes; she came on the last boat from +Seattle."</p> + +<p>"When do you wish the ceremony to take +place?" I inquired.</p> + +<p>"Right now," he replied. "You can't tie +the knot too quickly to suit me."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span></p> + +<p>I followed the eager young man, married +him to a nice-looking girl who was waiting +in a near-by cabin, received a wedding-fee +of twenty dollars, and returned to my newly-found +friend with the assurance that my +wants were supplied until my outfit would +come ashore.</p> + +<p>This was my introduction to the second +great gold camp of the Northwest—the raw, +crazy, confused stampede of Nome.</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2><a name="ChII" id="ChII">II</a></h2> + +<p class="center"><big>THE ANVIL</big></p> + + +<p><span class="dropcap">T</span><span class="smcap">he</span> first two great gold camps of +the Northwest were very different, +although largely composed of the +same material. In physical features they +were most unlike. The Klondike was in the +great, beautiful, mountainous, forested +Interior; Nome was on the bleak, treeless, +low, exposed coast of Bering Sea. To reach the +Klondike you steamed from Seattle through +twelve hundred miles of the wonderful "Inside +Passage," broke through the chain of +snowy mountains by the Chilcoot Pass, and, +in your rough rowboat, shot down the six +hundred miles of the untamed and untameable +Yukon. Or else you sailed twenty-three +hundred miles over the heaving Pacific +and the choppy Bering Sea to St. Michael, +and then steamed laboriously against the +stiff current of the same Father Yukon +eighteen hundred miles <em>up</em> to Dawson. To +reach Nome you simply steamed the twenty-three +hundred miles of Pacific Ocean and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span> +Bering Sea; or, if you were up the Yukon, +came down it to St. Michael and across +Norton Sound a hundred and fifty miles to +Nome.</p> + +<p>Though on the same parallel of north +latitude, the climates of the two camps are +very unlike. In the Klondike you have the +light, dry, <em>hot</em> air of summer; the light, dry, +<em>cold</em> air of winter. There are long periods +when the sky is cloudless. In the summer +of unbroken day the land drowses, bathed +in warm sunshine and humming with insect +life, no breath of air shaking the aspens; in +the winter of almost unbroken but luminous +night, the Spirit of the North broods +like James Whitcomb Riley's Lugubrious +Whing-whang,</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Crouching low by the winding creeks,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And holding his breath for weeks and weeks."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>There are no wind-storms in the Klondike, +and a blanket of fine, dry snow covers the +land in unvarying depth of only a foot or +two.</p> + +<p>On Seward Peninsula, the Spirit of Winter +breathes hard, and hurls his snow-laden +blasts with fearful velocity over the icy +wastes. The snow falls to great depth, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span> +never lies still in one place. It drifts, and +will cover your house completely under in +one night, and pack so hard that the Eskimo +can drive his reindeer team over your roof +in the morning. The air becomes so full of +the flying particles that you cannot see the +lead-dog of your team. Men have lost their +way in the streets of Nome and wandered +out on the tundra to their death. There is +considerable sunshine in the summer, and +some comparatively still days, but there is +much rain, and mossy swamps are everywhere.</p> + +<p>The men at Nome in the fall of '99 included +many who had been at Dawson in +'97, but conditions were very different. The +Klondike Stampede was composed of tenderfeet, +not one in twenty of whom had ever +mined for anything before—men of the city +and village and workshop and farm, new to +wilderness life, unused to roughing it. +Those who reached Nome in '99 were +mostly victims of hard luck. Many were +Klondikers who had spent two winters rushing +wildly from creek to creek on fake reports, +possessing themselves of a multitude +of worthless claims, eating up the outfits +they had brought in with them, and then<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span> +working for wages in mines of the lucky +ones to buy a passage to the new diggings. +Many had come down the Yukon in their +own rowboats.</p> + +<p>But the Klondike Stampede was the cause +of other smaller but more fruitless stampedes. +These were started by steamboat +companies, or by trading companies, and +often by "wildcat" mining companies, +and were generally cruel hoaxes. Scores +of small steamboats, hastily built for the +purpose, went up the Yukon to the Koyakuk +and other tributaries in the summer of '98. +Other scores of power-schooners and small +sailing vessels sailed through Bering Strait +into the Arctic Ocean and through Kotzebue +Sound to the Kobuk and Sewalik Rivers. +Almost without exception these eager +gold-seekers of '98 found only disappointment, +endured the savage winter as best they +could, and, out of money and food, were +making their way back to the States, when +news of the marvelous "beach diggings" +at Nome met them and they flocked thither +in hopes of at least making back their +"grub-stake."</p> + +<p>As these vessels approached the new +camp, the most prominent landmark which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span> +met their eyes was a lone rock in the shape +of an anvil, which crowned the summit of +the highest of the hills near the coast. At +the base of this hill rich gold diggings were +found in a creek. The town which sprung +up was first called Anvil City; but the Government +postal authorities, looking at the +map, found Cape Nome in the vicinity, and +the post-office was named after the Cape.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<a name="anvil" id="anvil"><img class="border" style="margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 1em;" src="images/image4.jpg" width="600" height="365" alt="Anvil Rock, Overlooking Nome" /> +</a></div> +<p class="center" style="margin-bottom: 2em;">Anvil Rock. Overlooking Nome</p> + +<p>For the name "Nome" two explanations +are given. It is said that the American and +Canadian surveyors who were laying out +the projected Western Union Telegraph +Line across the American and Asiatic Continents, +failed to find a name for this cape +and wrote it down "No name," which was +afterwards shortened to Nome. The more +probable explanation is that the surveyors +asked an Eskimo the name of the cape. +Now the Eskimo negative is "No-me," and +the man not understanding, or not knowing +its name said "No-me." This was written +down and put on the map as the name.</p> + +<p>But I like Anvil, and spoke and voted for +that name at the first town meeting, held +soon after I landed at the new camp. For +the camp has been a place of hard knocks +from the first. Rugged men have come<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span> +there to meet severe conditions and have +been hammered and broken by the blows of +adversity. Others have been shaped and +moulded by fiery trial and "the bludgeonings +of chance." When I see that stone +anvil I think of Tennyson's inspired lines:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"For life is not an idle ore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But iron, dug from central gloom,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And heated hot with burning fears,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And dipt in baths of hissing tears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And battered with the shocks of doom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To shape and use."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>I was battered as hard as any one on this +anvil of the Northwest; but to-day I feel +nothing but gratitude for the severe experience.</p> + +<p>I had to wait until Saturday before the +little steamer on which I came from St. +Michael returned from the shelter of Sledge +Island and put my goods ashore. In the +meantime I had obtained permission to +spread my blankets on the floor of the +Alaska Exploration Company's store. During +that first week we had constant storms. +Five or six vessels were driven ashore and +broken up by the violence of the waves.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span></p> + +<p>But I was getting my congregation together, +and so was happy. A goodly proportion +of Christian men and women are +always found in these gold camps, and they +are very willing workers. Before Sunday +came I had found an old acquaintance, +Minor Bruce, whom I had known fifteen +years before when he was a trader in +Southeastern Alaska. He offered me the use of +the loft over his fur store. Mr. Fickus, the +man from San Francisco, to whom I have +made reference in a former chapter, fixed up +some seats. I got my organ carried up the +ladder and found singers. "Judge" McNulty, +a lawyer friend who was handy with +crayons, made fancy posters out of some +pasteboard boxes I had got from the store.</p> + +<p>The floor of Bruce's store was cluttered +with Eskimo mucklucks, bales of hair-seal +skins, and other unsavory articles; and an +old Eskimo woman, who had her lower lip +and chin tattooed downwards in streaks +after the fashion of these people, sat among +the skins, chewing walrus hides and shaping +them into soles for mucklucks, while the +congregation was gathering. One usher received +the people at the store door, steered +them carefully between the bales and skins, +and headed them to another who helped<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span> +them up the steep stairway, while a third +seated them. We had a good congregation +and a rousing meeting. Our choir was one +of the best I ever heard. Our organist and +leader was Dr. Humphrey, a dentist, who +had been director of a large chorus and +choir; Mr. Beebe, our chief baritone, had +sung in the choir of St. Paul's Episcopal +Church of Oakland, Cal.; and there were +other professionals. I give these details as +a typical beginning in a frontier camp. +There is always fine talent of all sorts in a +new gold town.</p> + +<p>Let me give right here two or three instances +of the bread of kindness "cast upon +the waters" and "found after many days." +Nowhere is this Bible saying oftener realized +than in the friendly wilderness.</p> + +<p>One of the first men I met at Nome was +an old Colorado miner, whom I had known +at Dawson. I had done him some kindness +at the Klondike camp during the illness and +after the death of his nephew. When he +found me at Nome he greeted me warmly. +"You're just the man I've been looking for. +I know you don't do any mining, but I'm +going to do some for you. I expect to go +'outside' in a few days. You come out on<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span> +the tundra with me to-morrow, and I'll stake +some ground for you; then I'll take your +papers out with me and try to sell the +claims."</p> + +<p>I went with him and he marked off three +claims for me, which he had already selected. +The next spring, when my long illness had +plunged me deeply into debt and I was wondering +how I could pay my obligations, my +old friend returned with a thousand dollars, +from the sale of one of my claims. I paid +my doctor's bills and the other debts, and +rejoiced. It was as money thrown down to +me from heaven, in my time of dire need.</p> + +<p>At Dawson, in the summer of '98, I helped +an old G. A. R. man from Missouri. He +had been sick with the scurvy and was +drowned out by the spring freshets and +driven to the roof of his cabin, where I found +him helpless and half-devoured by mosquitoes. +I raised money for his need and +sent him out home by one of the first steamboats +down the Yukon. Before he left he +pressed upon me the only gift he could +offer—a fine Parker shotgun. I took this +gun with me when I went to stake my claims +and bagged a lot of ptarmigan; and a number +of times afterwards I shot others of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span> +these delicious wild chickens with it. And +when I was taken ill and my money all +spent, I was able to sell the gun for a goodly +sum.</p> + +<p>One more link in this chain of kindness: +When my goods came ashore and I was able +to set up my tent, I found two men, one a +Norwegian, the other a Michigander, both +of whom had just arrived, without a shelter. +I took them into my tent. They helped me +to move my goods, made me a cot and fixed +up tables, box-chairs and shelves for me. +The Norwegian was a very fine cook and +baked my "shickens" for me most deliciously. +I kept the men in my tent until +they could build a cabin. When I became +ill they would come to see me, bringing +ptarmigan broth and other delicacies; and +when I was convalescing and ravenous the +Norwegian came again and again to my +cabin, bringing "shickens for Mr. Zhung," +and roasted them for me, serving them with +his famous nut-butter gravy. In the language +of the Northwest, "I didn't do a thing +to those chickens." Of all places in the +world, I think Alaska is most fruitful in +return for little acts of kindness.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span></p> + +<p>Men such as I have just described were +pure metal, and the heavy blows they received +on the anvil only made their characters +more beautiful and efficient.</p> + +<p>It was in the metal of the men themselves—what +this hard life would do for them. Some it +made—some it ruined. Among the "Lucky Swedes," +who leaped in a few months from poverty to +wealth by the discovery of gold in Anvil Creek, +three form a typical illustration.</p> + +<p>One was a missionary to the Eskimos, on +a small salary. At first his gold gave him +much perplexity and trouble while he was +being shaped to fit new conditions; but he +rose finely to the occasion, gave a large part +of his wealth to his church board for building +missions and schools among the natives, +and pursued his Christian way, honored and +beloved, to broader paths of greater usefulness.</p> + +<p>A second Swede was also a missionary, +teaching the little Eskimos on a salary of six +hundred dollars a year. His gold completely +turned his head. He fell an easy prey to +designing men and women. He became +dissipated and broken in body and +character. He tried to keep for his own +use the gold taken from the claim he had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span> +staked in the name of his Mission. His +Board sued him for their rights. Long +litigation, in which he figured as dishonest, +selfish and grasping, followed, his church +getting only a small part of its dues. The +last I heard of him he was a mere wreck of +a man, disgraced, despised and shunned by +his former friends. The anvil battering, +the trial by fire, the hard blows, proved him +base metal.</p> + +<p>The third man was a Swedish sailor and +longshoreman, ignorant and low, living a +hand-to-mouth, sordid life, with no prospects +of honor or wealth. His gold at first +plunged him into a wild orgy of gambling +and dissipation. He took the typhoid fever +and was taken "outside." Everybody +prophesied that he would simply "go the +pace" to complete destruction.</p> + +<p>But there was true steel in his composition. +His moral fiber stiffened. He began +to think and study. He broke away from +his drunken associates. He sought the +companionship of the cultured. A good +woman married and educated him. He has +become one of Alaska's wealthiest and most +influential citizens, and his charities abound. +The stern anvil shaped him to world-usefulness.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span> +It is all in the <em>man</em>!</p> + +<p>Here at Nome I first made the acquaintance +of that strange race in which I afterwards +became so much interested—the +Eskimo. At first they were a source of +considerable annoyance. I always felt like +laughing aloud when the queer, fat, dish-faced, +pudgy folk came in sight. As we had +to depend upon driftwood for our fuel, they +would come several times a day, bringing +huge basketfuls of the soggy sticks for sale +at fifty cents a basket.</p> + +<p>They soon learned that I was a missionary, +and then they would come rolling along, +forty or fifty of them at a time, and "bunch +up" in front of my tent. If I were cooking +dinner they were sure to gather in full force, +and would lift up the flap of my tent, +grinning at me and eyeing every mouthful +I ate. I did not know enough of their language +even to tell them to go away. Their +rank native odors were overpowering in the +hot tent. You could detect the presence of +one of those fellows half a mile away if the +wind were blowing from him to you. The +combined smells of a company of natives, +not one of whom had ever taken a bath in +his or her life, and who lived upon ancient<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span> +fish and "ripe" seal blubber—well, I'll stop +right here!</p> + +<p>One evening at a social in our warehouse-church +we played the "limerick" game, +which was then a popular craze. We would +take a word and each one would write a +verse on it. One of the words was Esquimaux. +A number of the "limericks" were +published in the <em>Nome Nugget</em>. With a +man's usual egotism I can only remember +my own, which I saw at intervals for several +years in Eastern periodicals:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Oh, look at this queer Esquimaux!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His nose is too pudgy to blaux.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">His odors are awful;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">To tell them unlawful.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The thought of them fills me with waux."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>One day I was getting dinner in my tent +and the usual company of natives watching +the performance, when there came along a +couple of men who had just landed and who, +evidently, had never seen an Eskimo before. +I overheard their conversation.</p> + +<p>"Say, Jim," said one, "just look there. +Did you ever see the like?" (A pause.) +"Say, do you think them things has souls?"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span></p> + +<p>"We-e-ll," drawled Jim, "I reckon they +must have. They're human bein's. But +I'll tell you this: If they do, they've all got +to go to heaven, sure; for the devil'd never +have them around."</p> + +<p>Now let me tell you a sequel: Two years +afterwards I was a Commissioner from the +newly organized Presbytery of Yukon to the +General Assembly, which met at Philadelphia. +My fellow Commissioner from the +Presbytery—the elder who sat by my side—was +Peter Koonooya, an Eskimo elder from +Ukeavik Church, Point Barrow. Ten years +earlier, Dr. Sheldon Jackson, then Superintendent +of Education for Alaska, had visited +that northernmost point of the Continent +and had started a school and mission. Peter +Koonooya was one of the fruits. He was a +native of extraordinary intelligence, a man +of property, owning a fleet of whaling +<em>oomiaks</em>. He could read, write and talk English, +was a constant student of the Bible, and +was considered by the Presbytery of sufficient +intelligence and piety to represent us +in the supreme Council of the Church.</p> + +<p>I am quite certain that Peter always voted +exactly right on all questions which were +up before that Assembly; because he +watched me very closely and voted as I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span> +did.</p> + +<p>I was able, then, and in after years, to do +these gentle, good-natured natives some +good, and other Christian teachers have +done much more for them. So it comes +about that the condition of the Alaska +Eskimo, under the influence of the various +Christian missions and schools among them, +as compared with that of their brothers and +sisters of the same race across Bering Strait +in Asia, for whom nothing in a Christian +way has been done, is as day to night. They +are pliable metal, and the Anvil of the +Northwest is shaping them into vessels and +implements of usefulness and honor.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<a name="eskimo" id="eskimo"><img class="border" style="margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 1em;" src="images/image5.jpg" width="600" height="355" alt="The Odoriferous but Interesting Eskimo" /> +</a></div><p class="center">The Odoriferous but Interesting Eskimo</p> + +<p class="center">Two of Dr. Young's Parishioners</p> +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2><a name="ChIII" id="ChIII">III</a></h2> + +<p class="center"><big>BUNCH-GRASS BILL</big></p> + + +<p><span class="dropcap">A</span><span class="smcap">lthough</span> I had often met him on +the streets of Dawson in '98, I had +not come into hand-shaking contact +with Bunch-grass Bill until my first week at +Nome. Of all the social orders whose members +gathered together in clubs for humane +work during the epidemic of typhoid fever, +the first to organize, besides being the +strongest and most active, was the Odd +Fellows' Club. It was already organized +when I arrived and, as I belonged to the +order, I was present at the second meeting. +The young lawyer who was president of the +Club, taking me around the little circle of +earnest men, brought me to a black-haired, +black-eyed, sturdily-built and singularly +handsome young Irishman by the name of +Billy Murtagh.</p> + +<p>"Billy owns and runs the 'Beach Saloon,' +and goes by the name of Bunch-grass Bill," +introduced our president. "I don't know<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span> +how he got into the Odd Fellows, under +rules which bar saloon-keepers and bad +men. But he's in, and we'll not turn him +out of the Club, at least so long as this +distress continues."</p> + +<p>Bill made no reply to this rather uncomplimentary +introduction, but shook hands +with Irish heartiness and looked at me with +level gaze. "I've seen you in my saloon at +Dawson," he said.</p> + +<p>The others laughed, and the president +chided, "You oughtn't to give a preacher +away like that, Bill."</p> + +<p>Taking a closer look at the young man, a +scene at Dawson a year earlier flashed upon +me. I was collecting money to pay the +passage on the steamboat bound down the +Yukon of some poor fellows who were +broken and sick, and who must go "outside" +or die. I made the round of the saloons +and gambling halls, and going into one of +these places was curtly refused by one of the +partners. The other, who was this young +man, came up and quietly said to the cashier, +"Weigh him out two ounces ($32.00)."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I remember you now, and your two +ounces," I said to Bill; and to the others, +"I can vouch for his knowing the Second<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span> +Degree of the order, at least."</p> + +<p>I was made chairman of the Relief Committee +of the Club, and found work a-plenty +cut out for me. Although the members of +the Club did not look with indifference upon +any case of distress, yet its prime object was +to look up and help the sick Odd Fellows. +I prepared a bulletin and tacked it up in the +stores and saloons, directing that any cases +of distress among the members of the order +should be reported to the Committee. As +the typhoid epidemic increased in virulence, +the Club found its hands full.</p> + +<p>A day or two after this first meeting, I +was passing Bill's saloon when he called +me in.</p> + +<p>"I've just heard of a sick man," he reported, +"and I think he's an Odd Fellow." +Then, after a pause, he added, "But if he +isn't that doesn't make a —— bit of difference."</p> + +<p>He led the way along the beach for half +a mile or more, to an isolated tent, where +we found the typhoid case. Billy stayed until +he made sure that the man was well cared +for in the charge of friends and a good +physician. Then he took me aside and +slipped a twenty-dollar gold piece into my<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span> +hand. "Use that for him," he directed.</p> + +<p>The next day I had to raise a hundred and +fifty dollars to send an old miner who was +poor and crippled "outside." I marched at +once to the "Beach Saloon." "Billy," I +said, "this old-timer has blown in all his +dust for booze; and it's up to you who +have got it from him to take care of him +now."</p> + +<p>"That's right," he promptly answered. +"There's ten saloons; what would be my +share?"</p> + +<p>"An ounce," I replied, passing him the +paper.</p> + +<p>He weighed out the gold dust. "Wait a +while before going on. I'll pass the word +down the line," he said.</p> + +<p>Half an hour afterwards I stopped again +at his door. "They're all ready," reported +Bill. "If any of them guys don't come +across, just tell me."</p> + +<p>They all "came across," and thereafter, +until I left Nome, all the saloon-keepers met +every demand I made upon them without +question. When a man had been impoverished +or made sick through drink I went to +the saloons, <em>only</em>, for his relief. In +other cases I made a general canvass.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span> +When collecting money for church purposes +I went to everybody, <em>except</em> the saloon-keepers +and their following.</p> + +<p>The day before my second meeting with +the Odd Fellows' Club—a rainy, blustering +day—I came to Bunch-grass Bill with a +greater demand.</p> + +<p>"It is you I want this time, Billy, not just +your money," I said. "There is a sick Odd +Fellow in a tent almost a mile from here. +He is alone and lying in a puddle of water. +Get your gum-boots and find three or four +other stout men and come with me."</p> + +<p>Bill agreed at once, found a man to tend +his bar, secured a squad of strong and willing +men, a stretcher from the army post and +a good physician and went with me on the +errand of mercy. He worked all day in the +mud and rain. He carried the sick man to +the warehouse which we had turned into a +temporary hospital, visited all the stores in +an attempt to find mattresses, and, failing +in that, bought eight large reindeer skins +and piled them on the floor for a bed, bought +underwear, dry blankets and other comforts +for the sick man, and laid in a supply of +delicacies for the use of the hospital. In all, +he spent over fifty dollars and a whole day<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span> +of strenuous work upon the case.</p> + +<p>When I asked him at dusk if he were not +tired he laughed: "Never had a better time +in all my life."</p> + +<p>That night was the regular weekly meeting +of the Club. I made my report, which +was quite long, and mentioned many distressing +cases, showing an alarming increase +of the typhoid. Then I asked for a rotary +relief committee of three to be chosen at +every other meeting, and a permanent relief +committee of two.</p> + +<p>"I've found the biggest-hearted man in all +Alaska," I said. "His business and mine +are not quite the same. In fact I have been +all my life fighting saloons and saloon-keepers, +and I expect to keep on fighting +them until I die. But this man's heart of +love for his fellow-men fights his business +harder than I can."</p> + +<p>Then I related some of the things Billy +had done during the past week, and ended +my speech by asking that he be put on the +permanent relief committee with me. "We +two will find the sick and cut out the work +for the rest of you," I promised.</p> + +<p>The Club applauded, much to the confusion +of Bill, who tried his best to shrink out<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span> +of sight. One of the boys reported next +morning.</p> + +<p>"Say, Doctor," he began, "you sure +scared Bunch-grass Bill near to death last +night. Tickled, too. He asked us all to +come in and have one on him. He doesn't +know anything else to do when he feels +good. 'That's a new one on me,' he said. +'I never had anything to do with a preacher +in my life. Didn't like 'em. Kept shy of +'em. But if Father Young sees fit to come +into my saloon—and he's in it every day—I'll +go with him wherever he wants me to +go—even if it's to his church.'"</p> + +<p>That touched me, for I could sense something +of the sacrifice it would involve. It +would be far easier for Bill to start on a +three-thousand-mile winter mush on snow-shoes, +over unbroken trails, than to step inside +of a Protestant meeting-house.</p> + +<p>From that time on, Bill was my right +hand. As the number of typhoid victims increased, +he made his saloon an intelligence +office, finding and reporting to me all new +cases. The example of the Odd Fellows +stimulated the various social orders represented +in the camp—the Masons, Knights +of Pythias, Elks, Eagles, and others—to a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span> +like humane work; and Bill looked up their +sick members and reported to their committees. +He saw that all the sick had medical +attention, and guaranteed the payment +of scores of doctor's bills. Each steamboat +that left Nome for the "outside" carried a +number of convalescents and broken-down +and moneyless men, and funds had to be +raised for their passage. Bill headed nearly +all of these subscription lists, as well as those +for fitting up the four temporary hospitals +we opened and filled with sick men.</p> + +<p>Being for over six weeks the only clergyman +in that whole region, I conducted all +the funerals. One week I had eleven—all +typhoid cases. Bill attended them all, looking +after the digging of the graves and making +coffins, and often acting as undertaker.</p> + +<p>Now, I am not setting up my saloon friend +as a saint. Quite the contrary. I suppose +he had been guilty of every crime mentioned +in the Decalogue. He had never known +any home life, but had knocked about from +camp to camp of the western frontiers ever +since boyhood. His ideas of morality, therefore, +were very vague. He was said to have +been "run out" of several towns in Montana +and Idaho. He had a violent temper<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span> +and, as the phrase went, was "quick on the +trigger." Rumor said that he had the blood +of more than one man on his hands; although +it was claimed, in every case, that he +had not sought the quarrel. He sold whiskey +and drank it, gambled and swore habitually +without a thought of any of these things +being wrong. He was simply an uncultured, +ignorant, rough-and-ready, Irish-American +backwoodsman.</p> + +<p>But to those of us in the raw camp of +Nome who witnessed Bill's untiring kindness +and self-sacrifice during those weeks of +distress, his faults faded into the background +behind the light of his many good deeds. +St. Peter says, "Charity covers a multitude +of sins," and surely Bill's charity +"abounded" overwhelmingly, putting out +of sight much of the evil in his life.</p> + +<p>As for me, I shall always think of him as +one of the most loyal, devoted friends I ever +had, and the saver of my life. For after +seven weeks of most strenuous and wearing +work, I was suddenly stricken down with +the typhoid myself. The blow came when +I was fairly drowned in the multitude of my +duties. I was raising the money to send +out on the steamboat four or five men who<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span> +must leave the country or die—poor fellows +whose vitality was so low that they +could not combat the cold and storms of a +Nome winter. I was also preparing another +warehouse-hospital. So great was the +demand for space for the care of the sick +that I had felt compelled to take into my own +ten-by-twelve tent three men sick with the +disease. So crowded was the tent that I +had to sleep under the bed of one of them. +Billy Murtagh and others of the Odd Fellows' +Club warned me against thus exposing +myself to the infection, but there seemed +to be no other way. Billy brought me all +his remaining Apollinaris water that I might +not have to drink the impure seepage of the +tundra. Some of the brothers carried me +pails of water from the one well which had +been recently put down.</p> + +<p>While I was in the midst of the canvass +for funds, and in the bustle of preparation +for the departure of the last steamboats, I +had a terrific headache for several days. I +was besieged day and night by friends of +sick men for places to put the stricken ones +where they could be cared for. The life of +a number of these men seemed to depend +on my keeping on my feet. I had no <em>time</em><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span> +to be sick. I kept away from Billy and my +other friends, for fear they might forcibly +interfere.</p> + +<p>But one of the Odd Fellows saw me as I +was coming out of a store with a subscription +paper in my hand. He looked at me +for a moment and hurried to the "Beach +Saloon."</p> + +<p>"Bill," he shouted, "get a doctor, quick, +and go to the parson. I saw him just now +staggering along with his face as red as fire +and his hand to his head. He's got the +fever, sure."</p> + +<p>Billy came running down the beach with +Dr. Davy at his heels and caught me as I +was entering my tent. Without ceremony +they picked up the sick man who was in my +cot and carried him to another tent near by. +Then, in spite of my protests, they undressed +me and laid me in my blankets. I was half +delirious and stubborn. I fought them.</p> + +<p>"This is all nonsense, Doctor," I protested. +"I have only a headache. There +is no time to fool away. These men must +go out on this steamboat, and the money is +not raised. Let me alone."</p> + +<p>Dr. Davy finished his examination and +turned to Bunch-grass Bill. "He has a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span> +bad case of typhoid," was his verdict, "and +ought to have been in bed three or four days +ago. Find a house to put him in and a +woman to nurse him."</p> + +<p>Bill had one of the softest and sweetest +voices I ever heard. He came to me and +laid his cool hand on my forehead. "Don't +you worry about those men, Father," he said +gently. "I'll attend to that. Now who do +you want to nurse you?"</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Perrigo," I replied. "She has just +built a new cabin. I helped her with it. +Her husband is recovering from the fever."</p> + +<p>Soon the good woman was in my tent, +eager to serve. I was carried through a +driving snow-storm to her cabin. It was a +rude affair built of rough boards set upright +and battened with narrow, half-inch strips. +A single thickness of building-paper poorly +supplemented the inch boards. But cold +and uncomfortable as it was, it was the only +available shelter. I had them bring my tent +and make a storm-shed of it in front of the +door. There, for more than two months, I +was to lie helpless.</p> + +<p>My friends told me afterwards of the +consternation that my illness caused. I was +chairman of all the general relief committees—those<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span> +of the town council, the citizens, +the mission, the Odd Fellows. That +the leader should thus be laid aside seemed a +greater calamity than was actually the case. +For Mr. Wirt of the Congregational Church +arrived with lumber to erect a hospital, and +Raymond Robins, a young man of great +earnestness and talent, who has since arisen +to national prominence, came with him to +help in Christian work.</p> + +<p>The night after I was taken to the Perrigo +cabin, there was a meeting of the Odd Fellows' +Club. Billy Murtagh was present and +made his first public speech. As my illness +and the general situation was discussed he +rose to his feet, the tears streaming down +his face. He seemed unconscious of them—or, +at least, unashamed.</p> + +<p>"Fellers," he faltered, "I'm hard hit. +This gets me where I live. Now I'll tell you +this: you fellers can look after the other sick +folks, and call on me when you need any +money. But I want you to leave Father +Young to me. I've adopted him. He's my +father. All I've got is his. If there's anything +in this camp he needs, he's goin' to +have it."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span></p> + +<p>Ah, that long, desperate fight for life! +The stunning pain in my head, the high +fever, the delirium, the nervous terror, the +deadly weakness, the emaciation, the chills +and nausea! I was badly handicapped in +my fight. The two months of wearing work +and strain which preceded my illness had +exhausted me, body and mind—there was +no vital reserve to draw upon.</p> + +<p>I was in a little, cold shanty, twelve feet +square, crowded and unhealthy. Two people +besides myself must live in that tiny +room—sleep there, cook there. The savage +arctic winter raged against us, howling his +vengeance upon our impudence in thus +braving him, unprepared. He made every +nail-head inside the house a knob of frost. +When my blankets, damp with the steam of +cooking, touched the wall, he clamped them +so tight one must tear the fabric in pulling +it free. He made my clothing, stowed under +the cot, a solid lump of ice. He asphyxiated +us with foul gases when the door was +closed, and filled the room instantly with +fine snow from the condensation of the +moisture when it was opened. He charged +constantly upon the thin shell of the house +with his high October and November winds, +shaking it wildly and threatening to bowl it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span> +over. He drove, in horizontal sheets, the +fine, flour-like snow, shooting it through +batten-crevice, door-crack and keyhole; +and, finding myriad small apertures in the +shake roof, sifted it down upon my face. +He piled it in fantastic whirls around the +house, selecting the side on which our one +small window was, to bank it highest, so that +he might shut out our light. He sent the +red spirit in the thermometer tube down, +down, down—ten below zero, twenty, thirty +when it stormed, and forty, fifty, sixty below +when it was still, and the black death-mist +brooded over the icy wastes and men +breathed ice-splinters instead of air.</p> + +<p>The fuel supply for the Nome camp was +very poor and scanty. Men were digging +old, sodden logs of driftwood out of the +snow, and hauling this sorry fire-wood +twenty miles by hand. Coal was scarce and +sold by the ton for $150.00, or by the bucket +for ten cents a pound.</p> + +<p>Having had experience with typhoid +epidemics and other sicknesses in the Klondike +Stampede, I had laid in a good supply +of nice foods for the sick, such as malted +milk, the best brands of condensed milk, +tapioca, farina, and other delicacies; but all<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span> +of these had been given away before my own +illness, and there was a scarcity of such +articles in the stores.</p> + +<p>But my friends, women and men,—indeed, +everybody in the camp seemed interested +in me and anxious to do something for me—arose +to meet all these emergencies and +"ministered to mine infirmities." The Odd +Fellows supplemented the efforts of the +convalescent, but still shaky Perrigo, and cut +the wind-packed snow into bricks and built +it around the house, until it looked like a +veritable Eskimo igloo. It was much +warmer after this was done.</p> + +<p>The doctors at Nome all prescribed a diet +of milk and whiskey for their fever patients. +Upon the news of my illness circulating in +the camp a dozen bottles of different brands +were at once sent to me. Billy came, examined, +smelled at, and tasted these liquors, +with the air of an expert. Then he bundled +all the bottles into a gunny sack and carried +them away, saying, "He's not going to have +any of this dope. I've got some of the pure +stuff, made in Ireland." And he brought +me an ample supply for all my needs, and a +gallon of pure alcohol for sponge-baths.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span></p> + +<p>The Odd Fellows organized wood-cutting +"bees" for my benefit, and daily carried +water from the well for Mrs. Perrigo's use. +The women collected food and milk from +their own stores and those of others, and +brought them to me. The fellowship of +the wilderness, the finest in the world, had +its full exercise for my benefit there at +Nome. I doubt if there was a person in all +that great camp who would not have given +me cheerfully his last can of milk.</p> + +<p>As the fever progressed and my condition +grew more serious, the daily visitors +were restricted to two—Mrs. Strong and +Bunch-grass Bill. The lady looked after +matters of business, my letters, and information +about other sick people. Billy, with +his soft, low voice and gentle manner, +hovered over me, sitting for hours at my +bedside, lifting me in his two big hands with +infinite care and deftness. Never did son +care for father with more tender solicitude +and fuller devotion than did this Irish +Catholic saloon-keeper, this "bad man" of +the western frontier, for me—a Protestant +preacher.</p> + +<p>There were many malamute dogs at +Nome, great, beautiful, wolf-like beasts, and +the "malamute chorus" was much in evidence<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span> +in the late hours of the night. One, +in particular, which was tied up not far from +Perrigo's cabin, tuned up regularly every +morning at three o'clock with his high-pitched +tremolo, waking every dog within +a mile, until all were howling, and keeping +it up till daylight. There was no sleep possible +for me while this concert was in progress, +and I used to lie awake for hours, waiting +fearfully for the leader to begin, and to +cower in my robes with nervous chills +coursing down my spine at every renewal +of the long-drawn cadence, "Oo-o-o-o-o, +oo-o-o-o-o, ow, ow, ow, ow."</p> + +<p>My fever would always rise with the +commencement of this discordant chorus and +increase as long as it continued, and the +doctor on his morning visit would find me +exhausted and trembling. The words of +Clarence would chase each other through +my brain:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"With that, methought, a legion of foul fiends<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Environ'd me, and howled in mine ears<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such hideous cries, that, with the very noise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I trembling wak'd, and, for a season after<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Could not believe but what I was in hell."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span></p> + +<p>Mrs. Perrigo told Billy of the nuisance. +He stayed up that night until the leading +canine musician shrieked his solo to the +moon. He followed up the sound until he +found the dog, roused the grumbling owner, +paid the high price asked for the animal, led +him down the beach half a mile, and shot +him.</p> + +<p>An errand of an opposite character also +fell to Billy's lot. The barracks which +housed a squadron of United States soldiers +was less than a block from the cabin in +which I lay. Every night at eleven o'clock +a bugle of remarkable sweetness and +expression would blow "<a href="#Page_56">Taps.</a>" I would +listen for the soothing melody, and when it +would sound I would turn over in my robe +and obey its command, "Go-o-o to sle-e-ep."</p> + +<p>Lieutenant Craig, the commander of the +post, ordered the discontinuance of "Taps," +thinking it would disturb me and the other +sick people. That night I waited, as usual, +for the "good-night" bugle, and when it did +not sound I grew anxious and distraught. +I thought my watch was wrong or the bugler +must be sick. I grew excited, restless and +feverish, and passed a sleepless night, missing +my accustomed lullaby. We told Billy; +he went to see the Lieutenant, and the next<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span> +night the lovely, soothing phrase sounded +forth on the still night air, and I slept.</p> + +<p class="center" style="margin-top: 2em;"><span class="smcap"><big>Taps.</big></span><br /> +<a href="music/taps.mid">Listen</a></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;"> +<img style="margin-top: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em;" src="images/image6.jpg" width="450" height="132" alt="Taps." /> +</div> + +<p>Another cause of nervousness and anxiety +arose, requiring the efforts of both Mrs. +Strong and Billy Murtagh to solve the difficulty. +I was paying my nurse, Mrs. Perrigo, +five dollars a day, which was almost +all she and her husband had to live on. +They had been eating for a year and a half +a food outfit designed for only a single +season, and there was but little of it left. +Mr. Perrigo, who was a Yankee tintype-picture +peddler and knew no other trade, +had tried his best to be a gold-miner; but, +in common with the rest of the forlorn +"Kobuckers," had made nothing at all. +His wife, who had been a bookkeeper in +Boston, valiantly took up the trades of waitress, +washerwoman and cook in the Arctic +wilderness, but there was but little money in +that disappointed crowd. Almost immediately +after landing on the "golden sands"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span> +of Nome in August Mr. Perrigo was stricken +with the fever. With the fearful prices that +prevailed, my five dollars a day was little +enough to feed them and meet the monthly +payments on their house.</p> + +<p>I had accumulated $125.00—mostly wedding +fees—when I was taken sick. It +melted away like a spoonful of sugar in a +cup of hot coffee. Every Monday I must +have thirty-five dollars for my faithful nurse. +I placed in Mrs. Strong's hands for sale my +Parker shotgun, my typewriter, my gold-scales, +my extra overcoat, all gifts from +friends. She got good prices for them, and +for the few articles I could spare from my +food supply—but still the phantom weekly +payment menaced me. When I closed my +eyes the figures—$35.00—big and lurid—stared +at me, and in my delirious dreams became +red goblins, mocking me.</p> + +<p>A splendid woman, member of the church +which assumed my salary, had given me two +beautiful wolf robes. I was lying in the +heavier one. I delivered the other to Mrs. +Strong. "Sell it for me," I requested. +"You ought to get fifty or sixty dollars +for it."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span></p> + +<p>A week passed—then another. Mrs. +Strong reported she "was holding the robe +for a higher price." The crisis I had dreaded +had arrived. My money was gone. I +had none to meet next Monday's payment.</p> + +<p>"Sell the robe for what it will bring," I +directed Mrs. Strong. "I must have the +money."</p> + +<p>"I'll sell it on Saturday," she promised.</p> + +<p>Monday morning Mrs. Strong marched in +with a large canvas money-bag in her hand. +With Mrs. Perrigo's assistance she counted +out the money, which was mostly in silver +coins. Then she wrote in large figures, +"$158.50," and pinned the paper on the wall +by my head.</p> + +<p>"Where on earth did you get that +money?" I cried.</p> + +<p>"Why, for the robe, of course."</p> + +<p>"You never got all that for it."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I did," she affirmed.</p> + +<p>Then the truth dawned upon me. "Mrs. +Strong!" I exclaimed, "you raffled the +robe!"</p> + +<p>"Yes," she laughed. "What are you going +to do about it?"</p> + +<p>Then she explained. Finding it impossible +to get a fair price for the fur blanket<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span> +she and Bunch-grass Bill had laid their +heads together. They knew that I would +not consent to a raffle, so they kept the +matter quiet. Bill displayed the robe in +front of his saloon. Shares were offered at +fifty cents each. My lady friends of the +mission sold tickets. Bill bought fifty and +others of my friends did almost as well. +Their purpose if they won the robe was to +give it back to me.</p> + +<p>What could I do? To rebuke their kindly +deception would be ungracious indeed. +With brimming eyes I thanked my friends, +and Mrs. Perrigo got her money.</p> + +<p>But the greatest of Bunch-grass Bill's +many acts of kindness towards me remains +to be told. As Dr. Davy had said from the +first, mine was "a bad case." I had seven +and a half weeks of high fever before it +broke, whereas the usual limit of fever was +three weeks. I reached the extreme of +emaciation and weakness. I could hardly +lift my hand. When they bundled me in a +blanket like a baby and hung me on the hook +of a big steelyard I weighed sixty pounds! +I was long in the Valley of the Shadow of +Death and reached its utmost boundary, +until the very waters of the dark river<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span> +lapped my feet.</p> + +<p>"Well, Bill," said Dr. Davy with a sigh, +as he was returning one morning from his +call upon me, and stopped, as was his custom, +to report to the "Beach Saloon," "I'm +afraid it's about over. I don't think Dr. +Young can last much longer. He can retain +nothing on his stomach. We've tried all the +brands of condensed milk in the camp to no +avail. Everything comes up the instant it +is swallowed. There are many internal +complications, and he may go off any hour in +one of those deathly convulsive chills."</p> + +<p>"Big Wilbur," who reported the scene +to me afterwards, said that Bill's face "went +white as chalk, and then flushed red as fire." +He jumped at the doctor as though he were +going to assault him.</p> + +<p>"By God," he cried, "he's not goin' to +die. We'll not let him, Doc. See here: +When I had the fever at Dawson, what +saved me was cow's milk. Now, there's a +cow here. You come with me, and we'll go +see her."</p> + +<p>"That cow," explained Wilbur, "was a +wonderful animal. Her owner sold twenty +gallons of milk a day from her, and she +didn't look as if she gave one. Bill knew the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span> +owner was doping the milk with condensed +milk and corn-starch and water and other +stuff. So he strapped on his two big guns. +He's great for bluff, is Bill. Doc. and I +went along to see the fun. We found the +owner in the stable 'tending to his cow. +Bill didn't beat around the bush any.</p> + +<p>"'You look here' he said. 'Your cow's +givin' too darned much milk. Now this +man I want it for is my father, an' he's got +enough microbes in him already. Doc. here, +analyzed your milk; didn't you, Doc?' (Doc. +Davy was game, and nodded.) 'He says +you put tundra water and all kinds of dope +in it. I'm goin' to keep tab on you, an' if +you dope my milk—well, you know <em>me</em>! It +don't make no difference what you charge—a +dollar a bottle or five dollars a bottle—my +father's got to have pure milk. Understand?'"</p> + +<p>For three months Billy went to the stable +every day and superintended the milking. +At a cost to him, sometimes, of three dollars +for a pint bottle, and never less than a +dollar a bottle, the "bad man" brought me +every day, with his own hands, a bottle of +fresh milk. When Bill and the doctor +came in with that first bottle Mrs. Perrigo<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span> +carefully raised my head and gave me a +brimming glass of the rich milk. I drank it +all and dropped off to sleep. I needed no +more whiskey. The turning point of my +illness was that glass of cow's milk. Bill's +big bluff saved my life!</p> + +<p>To show the rough, yet fine sentiment of +the man, let me tell one last word about the +lone cow. She went dry before spring, and, +as the camp was crazy for fresh meat, the +owner butchered her. One of the Odd Fellows +told me. Said he, "Bill just went wild +when he heard of it, and we had all we could +do to keep him from going gunning for the +man who killed the cow that saved your life. +Why, that man would lay down his life for +you, and laugh while he was doin' it."</p> + +<p>I would I could tell of Bunch-grass Bill's +conversion and entire reformation, but this +is a true story, and I never heard that he +ever got so far as that. This much, however, +I am proud to tell. One day in the +spring of 1900, when the army of gold-seekers +was beginning to land on the +"Golden Beach," I was standing with Bill +near his saloon. On a sudden impulse I +spoke to him.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Billy," I said, "I love you, but I don't +like your business. It's a bad business. +See what it has done to lots of good fellows +around here. You are too big for that +game. I wish you'd drop it and do something +that's clean—that doesn't hurt anybody."</p> + +<p>Bill made no reply, and I supposed my +words had been fruitless. But in a few weeks +one of my friends informed me that Bill had +sold out and had gone to gold-mining.</p> + +<p>"That's good!" I exclaimed. "Did he +give any reason?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," the man replied, "Bill said you +told him to."</p> + +<p>When I was returning to Alaska in 1901, +I bought a nice buffalo smoking-set at the +Pan-American Exposition and took it to +Alaska for Bunch-grass Bill. I did not see +him, as he was mining at a distance, but I +heard of his pride and pleasure as he displayed +the gift and talked affectionately of +"Father Young." He left Alaska that +summer, and I have heard vaguely of his +presence in the Nevada gold-fields. But +wherever he is, I pray that God may bless +and save the Irish saloon-keeper, who loved +me and saved my life.</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2><a name="ChIV" id="ChIV">IV</a></h2> + +<p class="center"><big>MY DOGS</big></p> + + +<p><span class="dropcap">M</span><span class="smcap">ushing</span> with dogs in Alaska is +the worst and the best mode of +traveling in all the world—the +most joyful and the most exasperating—according +to the angle from which you look +at it.</p> + +<p>Once I was preaching a series of sermons +on the Ten Commandments to the miners +at Council, a town on Seward Peninsula +eighty-five miles east of Nome. I had come +to the Third Commandment; and I bore +down pretty hard upon the useless and foolish +habit of profane swearing.</p> + +<p>When I was going home from the meeting, +a group of young men stood on the +corner waiting for me.</p> + +<p>"Come over here, Doctor," called one of +the men. "I have a bet with Jim, and I +want you to decide it."</p> + +<p>I crossed over to the jolly group. "What +is your bet?" I asked.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Why," he replied, "I've bet Jim five +dollars that you have never mushed a dog-team."</p> + +<p>"Well, you've lost," I answered. "I have +driven dogs many times—and never found it +necessary to swear at them, either."</p> + +<p>Before I go on with my story, perhaps I +would better explain that word "mush," as +it is used in the Northwest. The word is +never used in Alaska as you use it in the +East, to denote porridge, or some sort of +cereal. There we say "oatmeal" or "corn-meal," +or simply "cereal."</p> + +<p>In Alaska the word has but one use. It is +a corruption of the French <em>marchez, marche</em>, +which the Canadian <em>coureurs du bois</em>, or +travelers of the woods, shout at their dogs +when urging them along the trail. From +<em>marche</em> to "mush" is easy. So now, +throughout the great Northwest, Canadian +or Alaskan, when a man is traveling he is +"on a mush." When he is speaking to his +dogs, either to drive them out of the house +or to urge them along the trail, he shouts +"mush!" If he be a good traveler, he is a +"great musher." Of all the pet names they +used to give me up there, the one of which +I was proudest was "The Mushing Parson."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span></p> + +<p>They tell a story, which has the ear-marks +of truth, which illustrates this universal use +of the word "mush" in the Northwest.</p> + +<p>Two miners, who for years had been in +the mining camps of Alaska, at last came +"outside" to Seattle. In the morning they +went to a restaurant for breakfast and took +seats at a table. A rather cross-looking +waitress came to take their order. "Mush?" +she asked. The miners looked at one another +in surprise and alarm. The woman +waited a while, and when they did not answer +she supposed they were deaf and had +not heard her question. "Mush?" she +screamed. The two men arose and fled. +When they got safely to the sidewalk, one +said to the other, "Now, what the Sam +Hill did she fire us for?"</p> + +<p>There are three principal breeds of native +dogs found in Alaska—the Husky, the +Malamute and the Siberian Dog—all +descendants of wolves, with wolfish traits +and the wolf's warm coat and powers of +endurance. Of these the Malamute is the +largest, descended, as he is, from the great +gray wolves of the Arctic regions. The +Husky seems to be derived from the red +wolf of the McKenzie River Valley; +while the Siberian Dog has for ancestor<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span> +the smaller, shorter-legged, heavier-furred +Arctic wolf of the Siberian coast. The +smaller and more worthless dogs of the +southern Alaska Coast, if descended from +wolves, must have the coyote as their +progenitor—having his lighter and slimmer +body and his sneaking, thievish, cowardly +disposition.</p> + +<p>Everywhere, however, the dog is largely +what his master makes him, and these +northern wolf-dogs have greatly improved +since they have fallen into the hands of +white masters. More intelligent breeding, +greater care in feeding and more careful +training, have made them what they are—the +finest, most enduring and most dependable +sleigh-dogs in the world.</p> + +<p>The dog is by all odds the most valuable +animal of the Northwest to the white miner +and settler. He is the miner's horse, +bicycle, automobile, locomotive, all in one. +Life in those wilds would be almost +unendurable without him. The miners appreciate +this, and cases of cruelty and mistreatment +are very rare. In the days of the +early gold stampedes the <em>cheechackos</em> or +tenderfeet, who knew but little about life in +the wilderness, and still less about the dogs<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span> +of the wilderness, sometimes were guilty of +abusing their dogs; but this very seldom +occurred, and the old-timers always frowned +upon, and sometimes punished, cases of +cruelty. I remember once holding, with +joy, the coat of one of these old-timers at +Dawson in the strenuous winter of 1897-8, +while he administered a very beautiful and +artistic thrashing to a newcomer who was +guilty of beating his dogs with a heavy chain +and knocking out the eye of one of them.</p> + +<p>But I cannot better give you an idea of +what dog-mushing in the Northwest is than +by sketching a trip I took to a meeting of +the Presbytery of Yukon in March, 1912. +I was at Iditarod, a new gold-mining town +in the western interior of Alaska. The +meeting was to be held at Cordova on the +southern coast, seven hundred and twenty +miles distant. To reach Cordova I must +cross four mountain ranges—the Western, +the Alaska, the Chugach and the Kenai +Ranges; and traverse four great river +valleys—the Yukon, the Kuskoquim, the +Susitna and the Matanuska. There was +first a very rough stretch of rudely marked +trail five hundred and twenty miles to +Seward. There I would take a steamboat<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span> +two hundred miles to Cordova. Let us betake +ourselves together to this big miner's +camp, and talk the matter over in the free, +familiar way of the Northwest:</p> + +<p>A young fellow of Scotch descent hailing +from the north of Ireland, William Breeze, +known far and wide as an experienced "dog +musher," is to be my companion on this +trip. He is bound for Susitna, three hundred +miles from Iditarod, on a prospecting +trip, and will take care of my dogs, boil their +feed at night and do the heaviest part of +the work.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<a name="dog" id="dog"><img class="border" style="margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 1em;" src="images/image7.jpg" width="600" height="362" alt="Dr. Young and his Dog Team" /> +</a></div> + +<p class="center">Dr. Young and his Dog Team</p> + +<p class="center" style="margin-bottom: 2em;">Iditarod, February, 1912</p> + +<p>And now let me introduce you to my +team. It is one of the finest teams in all +the North. There are five pups of the same +litter, now six or seven years old. They are +a cross between the McKenzie River husky +and the shepherd dog, and have the long +hair and hardy endurance of the former and +the sagacity, intelligence and affection of +the latter. Being brothers, they know each +other and are taught to work together, +although this fact does not hinder them from +engaging in a general free-for-all fight now +and again. However, if attacked by strange +dogs the whole five work together beautifully, +centering their forces with Napoleonic<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span> +strategy and beating the enemy in detail.</p> + +<p>The leader is black, white and tan, marked +like a shepherd dog. He has been named +"Nigger," but I have changed his name +simply to "Leader." It sounds enough like +the original to please him and keep him going. +He is a splendid leader. He has a +swift, swinging pace, and can keep the trail +when it is covered a foot deep by fresh snow +and there is no external sign of it. He has +that intelligence which leads him to avoid +dangers, and he will stop and look back at +you if there is a hole in the ice or a dangerous +slide, awaiting your orders and co-operation +before he essays the difficult +problem. His knowledge of "Gee" and +"Haw" is perfect, the tone in which you +pronounce these words and the force with +which you utter them telling him just how +far to the right, or to the left, he is to swing. +"<em>Gee!</em>" spoken in a short, explosive, loud +tone will turn him square to the right, while +"Ge-e-e, ge-e-e-e," in soft lengthened +syllables, will make him veer slowly and +gradually. His sense of responsibility is +very great, and his censorship of the conduct +of his fellow teamsters very severe. He will +not tolerate any shirking on their part and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span> +takes keen delight in their correction when +they deserve it. But he will fly at your +throat if you touch <em>him</em> with the whip.</p> + +<p>The "swing dogs" just behind him are +"Moose" and "Ring," colored like Irish +setters. They have exactly the same gait, +are the same size, and almost the same +coloring, "Ring" a little lighter than +"Moose" and with a white collar around +his neck which suggested his name. +"Moose" is a little gentleman, the loveliest +dog I have ever known. His traces are always +taut, and when you utter his name he +will jump right up into the air, straining on +his collar. He knows the words of command +as well as the leader, and has never, +perhaps, been touched with the whip. I +think chastisement would break his heart, +for he would know it was unmerited. He is +my pet, the one dog of the team that I allow +in my cabin, and my companion in my short +journeys through the camp. He is remarkably +clean and dainty in his habits, his coat +shining like polished bronze. He would +guard my person or my coat with his life, the +most faithful, intelligent and affectionate +dog I have ever had. I love that dog.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Ring" is also willing, but has not the +intelligence or the good nature of "Moose." +He is a scrapper and apt to embroil the rest +of the team in a general fight. But he will +work all day at his highest tension.</p> + +<p>"Teddy" and "Sheep," the "wheel +dogs," are not so valuable as the other three. +"Teddy" has the longest hair and the lightest +weight of any, and the least strength; +but he is a willing little fellow and a very +keen hunter. Make a noise like a squirrel +or a bird, and he will prick up his ears and +dash down the path after the game, and +when a real rabbit or ptarmigan crosses his +path he will tear madly along until the game +is passed. You can fool him every minute +of the day, and Breeze has a way of imitating +the little birds that keeps "Teddy" +working his hardest.</p> + +<p>"Sheep" is a malingerer. He is a clown, +and so comical that you cannot help laughing +at him, even when you know he deserves +a good thrashing. He is fat, heavy +and awkward. In color he is a light, tawny +yellow, with long hair like "Teddy," but +labors under the serious disability of having +a different gait from the others. They are +pacers; he is a trotter. When they are +swinging rhythmically along at a five-mile<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span> +gait, "Sheep" has to lope, his trot not being +equal to the occasion. He has a way +of playing off sick or fagged; but if game +appears, he forgets all about his pretenses, +his lameness is all gone in a second and he +is the keenest of the team. Also, when +nearing the camp he forgets his weariness +and pulls harder than any of the team. It +is necessary to let him see the whip +constantly, and occasionally to feel it, and +he is the only one of the team that +necessitates its use at all.</p> + +<p>About once a day, on the trail, a funny +scene has to be enacted. We may be laboring +up a long hill, or wallowing through +deep snow, the difficult ascent requiring +every man and dog to do his best. "Sheep" +will get tired, and, with a backward look at +me to see if I am noticing, will let his traces +slacken. I give him a touch of the whip, +and, although he can hardly feel the lash +through his thick coat, he yelps and pulls +manfully for a short distance; but presently +his trace chain sags again. Soon "Leader" +notices the heavier pulling and, knowing +where the blame lies, turns his head, shows +his teeth and growls at "Sheep," who jumps +into his collar and pulls like a good fellow.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span> +Soon he forgets and lets up again, getting a +fiercer growl from "Leader." A third time +he is a slacker. Then "Leader" stops and +begins to swing around carefully so as not +to tangle the harness. "Moose" and +"Ring" and "Teddy" all stand still and +look at "Sheep." That unfortunate trotter +lies down on his back with his feet in the +air and begins to howl in anguish. I sit +down on the sled and wait—I know what is +coming. "Leader" reaches "Sheep" and +for about a minute there is a bedlam of +savage growls from "Leader" and piercing +shrieks from "Sheep." I notice that +"Leader" does not take the culprit by the +throat, but only pinches the loose hide on +his breast and side. That cannot injure him, +so I am not uneasy. The punishment over, +"Leader" resumes his place. "Sheep" +gets up and shakes himself with an air of +relief. I take the handle-bars and call +"Mush." For the rest of the day "Sheep" +pulls for all he is worth; but the next day he +forgets and has to be trounced again.</p> + +<p>I am conscious that this story may have a +"fishy" flavor for some of my readers, but +I can assure them it is true.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span></p> + +<p>But mine are all fine little dogs, not as +large as the malamute, but with more courage, +spirit and intelligence. The long hair +protects them from the cold and they will +cuddle down in the snow contentedly, curled +up like little shrimps, and let it cover them.</p> + +<p>We must take along enough feed for the +dogs, to last them from salmon stream to +salmon stream. The staple of their feed is +dried salmon; it goes a long way for its +weight. We start with a hundred pounds +of it, and fifty pounds of rice and tallow. +This, boiled into a savory mess and served +once a day (when they stop for the night), +keeps the dogs fat and hearty. We shall +replenish the supply at intervals, for five +dogs will eat an immense amount of food, +and must have all that they can eat at their +daily meal.</p> + +<p>The sled is a basket-sleigh with handle-bars +and brake at the back and a "gee-pole" +in front, with an extra rope when we have +to "neck it" to help the dogs. My wolf-robe +is spread on the floor of the sleigh for +my accommodation in the brief intervals of +riding. For dog mushing in Alaska does +not mean luxuriously riding in your sleigh +wrapped up in your fur robe while the dogs +haul you along the trail. When Dr. Egbert<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span> +Koonce sledded twelve hundred miles from +Rampart to Valdez in 1902 on his way to the +General Assembly, I told the Assembly of +the feat. A good friend from Philadelphia +said: "It must after all be a really luxurious +way of traveling, wrapped up in your furs +and reclining in a comfortable sleigh behind +your dogs." I turned to Koonce and asked +him how much of that twelve hundred miles +he rode. "About two miles," he replied.</p> + +<p>I shall ride more than this on my way to +Seward, but there will not be many places +where I can ride half a mile at a stretch +without getting out and running behind the +dogs. The beauty of "dog mushing" is +that you are compelled to work as hard as +the dogs. You are not on a well-beaten +boulevard; you are wending your way +around trees and stumps, over hummocks, +up and down hills, along the sides of the +mountains, and must keep your hands on +the handle-bars, lifting the sled on the trail +when it runs off and often breaking the trail +ahead with your snow-shoes. When the +dogs are on fairly good roads they swing +along uninterruptedly and you run your best +behind. If there are two of you, one holds +the handle-bars and the other sprints along,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span> +either in front or behind the sleigh. You +will get pretty tired the first two or three +days, but after your muscles become hardened +and you get your second wind, you can +run at your keenest gait two or three miles +at a time.</p> + +<p>But let us get started. All preparations +are made, the supply of dog-feed loaded, our +robes and blankets put aboard, heavy canvas +corded around the load and our snow-shoes +strapped on top. We shall not need a gun, +for there will be plenty of game to be had +at the roadhouses, and we shall not have +time to bother with hunting. We have a +long journey to make and everything must +bend to getting over the ground. That +"ribbon of the trail" must be unwound for +five hundred and twenty miles. A company +of warm and sympathetic friends foregather +to bid us "good-bye," and off we go.</p> + +<p>The trail is well beaten from Iditarod to +Flat City, seven and a half miles, and I get +aboard, with Breeze at the handle-bars. My +huskies leap into the harness at the word of +command and we make a flying start. They +are just as keen to go as we are, and seem +to enjoy it as well. I ride perhaps half a +mile then jump off without stopping the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span> +team, and run ahead of the dogs up the long +hill. I soon find my fur parka too heavy, +and discard it for the lighter one made of +drilling, in which I do the rest of my mushing +to the end of the trail. Moccasins are +on my feet, for the trail must be taken +flat-footed if one is to have reasonable +comfort.</p> + +<p>After two or three miles we leave the +broad road and strike the trail through the +wilderness. Our sled is twenty-one inches +wide, light and shod with steel, and the +trail, henceforth, will be about twenty-four +inches in width, sometimes sunken deep, +where snow has not recently fallen and the +trail has been well beaten, sometimes only a +trace along the snow where the wind has +blown it clean and where the trail is hard.</p> + +<p>We soon begin to labor up the first divide. +No more riding now. The trail is hard +enough to dispense with snow-shoes, but +heavy enough to make us both walk and +labor. I strike the trail ahead, leaving +Breeze to the handle-bars. I begin to feel +the joy of it. The keen, light, dry air is +like wine. The trail winds through the +woods, along the edges of gorges, then up +a steep mountain. Now the timber ceases +and we have rounded, wind-swept summits.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span> +I leave the dogs far behind, for it is heavy +pulling up the steep. Their bells tinkle +faintly from below. I gain nearly a mile on +them before they round the summit. I +strike my lope down the farther side, but +soon hear the bells as they charge down +upon me and pass me, swinging on towards +the roadhouse.</p> + +<p>We only make twenty miles the first day, +for it was nearly noon when we started, and +we are glad to stop at "Bonanza Roadhouse" +as dusk is coming on. How good +the moose meat tastes! How sweet the +beds of hard boards and blankets! The +luxury of rest we enjoy to the full. The +dogs are fed, our moccasins and socks hung +up to dry, and we crawl in our bunks with +sighs of relief. There is no floor in the +roadhouse; all the lumber has been whipsawed +by hand, the furniture manufactured +out of boxes and stumps, the utensils of the +rudest. But the luxury of splendid meat +and good sour-dough bread and coffee +makes us feel that we have all that goes to +make life desirable.</p> + +<p>An early morning start is necessary. We +eat our breakfast by candle-light, fill up our +thermos bottle with hot coffee, take a big<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span> +hunk of roasted meat for lunch, and "hit +the trail" by daylight. Twenty-six miles +to-day—to "Moorecreek Roadhouse." Snow +begins to fall, and soon the trail is +obliterated by the fast-coming feathery flakes. +Now the snow-shoes must be unstrapped and one +of us break the trail ahead. We take turns +and swing along at a three and a half mile +gait. This is real work, and we reach the +roadhouse in the middle of the afternoon, +but not so tired as on the preceding day.</p> + +<p>These are samples of the journey throughout; +but oh, the variety!—no two miles +alike—and the panorama of beauty that unfolds +before us!</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Each fir tree flings a bridal veil,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A bridal veil of shimmering white,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like stately maidens tall and bright,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Slow marching as to solemn rite<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beside the ribbon of the trail."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Notice the beauty of the frost sparkling +on the trees. The wonderful law that gives +its own distinct varieties of frost crystals to +each species of tree, fir, spruce, birch, cottonwood +or alder, is exemplified so plainly here +that, after the first examination, you can +tell the kind of tree under the frost crystals<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span> +by the shade of silver. The mountains +tower above you, wind-swept, waving snow-banners. +The vastness of that white hush +awes and thrills you. A rough sound would +be blasphemy in the solemn silence. The +whole landscape is a poem.</p> + +<p>To relate even the leading incidents of +this "joy-mush" of three weeks would take +up too much space. The longest distance +we traveled in any one day was fifty-five +miles; while our hardest and longest day's +struggle through drifted snow and over a +steep mountain pass yielded us only twelve +miles of trail. In most of the roadhouses I +found old friends, and, in several of them, +Christian people who had been members of +missions I had established in new mining +camps. What grand times we had together! +No fellowship is so warm and sweet as that +of the wilderness. Of many adventures on +the trail I can give but two.</p> + +<p>One morning, about half-way from Iditarod +to Seward, we left the fine cabin of +French Joe, on the South Fork of the Kuskoquim +River, under the two beautiful +peaks, Mts. Egypt and Pyramid. We were +making for Rainy Pass over the Alaskan +Range. What follows is an extract from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span> +an account I wrote at the time.</p> + +<p>The day out from Joe's I meet with my +first disaster. We have nineteen miles of +absolutely clear ice on the South Fork of +the Kuskoquim. The river is full of +air-holes and open riffles. The dogs swing +along at a ripping pace, digging their toe +nails into the hard ice, the sled slipping +sideways and sliding dangerously near to the +open places. Breeze often has to run ahead +at full speed to choose a route, for there is +no trail on the ice. Half-way up the river +I "get gay," as Breeze calls it. I leave the +handle-bars to find a route, and fall down +hard on the smooth ice. A sharp pang +strikes through the small of my back as if +from a spear-thrust. I get up and go along, +thinking the pain will cease, but soon I +realize that I am in the grip of an old enemy, +lumbago.</p> + +<p>From this point on to Seward I cannot +make a move without pain, sometimes so +great that I gasp for breath. At night in +the roadhouse I have great trouble in getting +into my bunk, and sometimes Breeze has +to lift me out in the morning. Were I at +home I would be in bed for a couple of +weeks with doctors and nurses fussing over<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span> +me, but it is just as well that I cannot stop. +I take the philosophy of an old fellow in the +"Rainy Pass Roadhouse" near the summit +of the range, who says the best cure for a +lame back is to "keep on a-mushin'"!</p> + +<p>Beyond Rainy Pass we drop into the +canyon of Happy River, and here we have +our famous moose-hunt. Soon after we +enter the gorge we come upon its tracks—a +big bull-moose. We have already traveled +nearly thirty miles to-day, and are anxious +to make the roadhouse twelve or fifteen +miles further on; and now, here comes this +big, blundering beast to poke our trail full +of deep holes and excite our dogs. He is +running ahead of us. The snow is five or +six feet deep and he goes in almost to his +back at every step. The walls of the canyon +are sheer and he cannot escape up its side. +The river turns and winds, and here and +there are little patches of level ground, thick +with large spruce trees.</p> + +<p>For three miles we do not catch sight of +the moose, but our dogs show that he is on +ahead. In spite of my lame back I have to +struggle on in front of them and bat +"Leader" in the face with my cap, Breeze +standing on the brake to keep them from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span> +running away. The moose tracks fill our +trail for a while, smashing it all to pieces, +then veer sideways to a little patch of +woods, and the dogs go pell-mell in the +moose track, burying our sled out of sight +in the deep snow. Then we have to haul +them around and lift the sled on the track +again, and try to get them along the trail.</p> + +<p>Three miles down the river we catch sight +of the big moose, and the dogs go wild. +"Sheep," who has been disposed to malinger, +is the worst of the lot. He forgets all his +maladies and weariness and dashes forward, +but "Leader" will not leave the track and +swings along as best he can, except when +the moose is in full sight. Then I have +to bat him in the face to keep the team in +bounds. Our bells are tingling, our dogs +barking and we are shouting. It is a fearsome +thing to the bull-moose, this animated +machine that is charging down the river at +him. So on he struggles through the deep +snow, spoiling our trail and filling my +companion's mind with blasphemous thoughts +which occasionally break out in expression, +in spite of his respect for my "cloth."</p> + +<p>Four miles of this moose-hunt, with the +big brute growing more tired and we more<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span> +anxious to pass him. Instead of our hunting +the moose he is haunting us. At last, +around a little point of woods, we see him +lying down in the middle of the river right +ahead of us. The dogs break bounds and +almost upset me as they dash down the +trail with Breeze standing on the brake and +yelling "Whoa!" The weary bull-moose +staggers to his feet again and makes the edge +of the woods, but there lies down again.</p> + +<p>The trail veers right up to him. I run +ahead and take "Leader" and "Ring," one +in each hand, and Breeze does the same +with "Teddy" and "Sheep." "Moose" +is more tractable and we can control him +with our voices. We drag the dogs bodily +with the sled behind, pass the big brute, his +long face not a rod from us, and then, +setting "Leader" on the trail again, we urge +them down five miles further to "Happy +River Roadhouse." That was <em>one</em> hunt in +which I was glad to lose the game.</p> + +<p>Four hundred miles from our starting +point we put up at the "Pioneer Roadhouse" +in the little town of Knik at the head +of Cook's Inlet. This was one of half a +dozen small towns around Knik Arm and +Turn-again Arm, the two prongs of Cook's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span> +Inlet. These towns had been in existence +for fifteen or twenty years, with gold-miners +and their families living there; and yet, here +at Knik, I preached the first sermon that had +ever been preached in a region larger than +the state of Pennsylvania! This visit led +to the establishment of a number of missions +in that region, which is now traversed by +the new Government railroad. The towns +of Anchorage and Matanuska have sprung +into existence and a thriving population of +railroad builders, coal miners, gold miners, +farmers and men of other trades and professions +has settled there.</p> + +<p>I left Iditarod on March fifth. I swung +into Seward at nine o'clock on the morning +of March twenty-eighth and was heartily +greeted and entertained by Rev. L. S. Pedersen, +pastor of the Methodist Church. He was +a photographer as well as a preacher, and +took the picture of my arrival. In spite of +their hard work, my dogs were fatter and +fuller of "pep" than when we started.</p> + +<p>I fairly cried when I bade my team good-bye +at Seward, taking each beautiful head +in my arms and talking to them all. They +seemed to feel the parting as keenly as I, +for there was a general chorus of mournful<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span> +howls as I turned away. I never saw my +splendid dogs again, for the man who engaged +to take them back to Iditarod failed to +keep to his bargain, and I had to give them +to the man who cared for and fed them at +Susitna. I shall never find another team +like them.</p> + +<p>Notwithstanding the heaviness of the +trail, the bitter struggles over mountains +and through deep snows, not to mention the +pains of lumbago, I look back upon that trip +and other trips like it with joyful recollection +and longing to repeat the experience. +I would rather take a trip through that +beautiful wilderness, with my dogs, than +travel luxuriously around the world on +palatial steamboats. There is more fun in +dog-mushing.</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2><a name="ChV" id="ChV">V</a></h2> + +<p class="center"><big>LOUIE PAUL AND THE HOOTZ</big></p> + + +<p><span class="dropcap" style="padding-right:.8em;">"O</span><span class="smcap">h</span>, 'e's bad feller, dat hootz," exclaimed +Louie Paul, our half-breed +Stickeen young man, the +blood of his French father sparkling in his +eyes and gesturing in his hands and shoulders. +"'E's devil, 'im. Dat's no swear—dat's +truf. Bad spirit got him, sure. <em>Quonsum +sallix</em> (Always mad). 'E no savvy +scare, no savvy love, no savvy die. 'E's +devil, dat's all."</p> + +<p>Louie's handsome face and coal-black +eyes were alive with excitement, as he +danced about his big bundle of <em>tseek</em> (black +bear) skins, which he had just brought into +Stevens' store at Fort Wrangell, and was +unwrapping, preparatory to bartering. His +outburst of language was called out by a +question of mine. I had been noticing with +surprise that among the great numbers of +black bear skins that were being brought +into the Wrangell stores daily by the Indians, +were none of the big brown bear—the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span> +<em>hootz</em>. I knew these brown bears to be very +plentiful up the Stickeen and Iskoot Rivers +where Louie had been hunting. At this +season (it was in early May) both species +of bears, having wakened from their long +winter's sleep, were roaming the banks of +the streams restlessly day and night, making +up in their fierce activity for their six +months of torpor. Their coats were at their +best—long, silky, glistening, thick and soft. +The skins of the black bear Louie had +brought were prime. They were more than +black. Their ebony surfaces shone and +sparkled, beneath our handling, like black +diamonds.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<a name="wrangell" id="wrangell"><img class="border" style="margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 1em;" src="images/image8.jpg" width="600" height="368" alt="Fort Wrangell, Alaska, on Etolin Harbor" /> +</a></div> + +<p class="center">Fort Wrangell, Alaska, on Etolin Harbor</p> + +<p class="center" style="margin-bottom: 2em;">To the left may be seen the first Protestant Church in +Alaska, built by Dr. Young, 1879</p> + +<p>I knew that the skins of the hootz would +be equally beautiful and twice as large as +those of the tseek. They would not be +tawny at this season, but a rich, velvety +brown, the color of the Irish setter's coat. +In my canoe trips and steamboat voyages +up the Stickeen I had seen more brown +bears than black, standing boldly out on the +bank to watch the sputtering steamboat, or +grubbing for roots and worms in the green +patches up the mountain slopes.</p> + +<p>"Why don't you shoot the big bears?" I +asked Louie. "I saw four in a bunch the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span> +other day. Don't you see any in your hunting +trips?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes," he confessed, "me plenty see +hootz. All time me see heem. Yestaday +me see tree—big fellers; stand up, all same +man."</p> + +<p>"What's the matter, then?" I pressed +him. "Are you afraid of them?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, you bet you boots, I scare of heem. +I no shame scare about hootz. S'pose I big +fool, I no scare; I shoot heem.—You never +see me again no mo'."</p> + +<p>Louie Paul had two claims to special +distinction. First, he was a very expert and +successful bear hunter; and, second, he was +the husband of the star pupil of Mrs. McFarland's +Home for Girls,—Tilly, the handsomest +and brightest of the girls whom we +had rescued from the vileness, squalor and +sin of heathen life, and were training to be +examples and teachers of Christian civilization +to their tribe.</p> + +<p>I had taken Louie and Tilly the preceding +fall and established them at Tongas, one +hundred miles south of Wrangell, outfitting +Tilly with school books, Bibles, Sunday-school +supplies, etc., and paying her a salary +as teacher to that wild tribe. Louie's task<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span> +was to keep up the fires for the school, and +to cook for his wife and supply her needs. +He had stayed at home faithfully during the +winter, procuring the venison, ducks, geese, +fish, clams, crabs, and other articles of food +they needed, and making himself useful +around the branch mission, even occasionally +leading in prayer, and exhorting the people. +But the trapper's "call of the wild" sounded +in the early spring—a call he could not resist. +So here he was, having left Tilly to +cook her own meals and make her own fires, +while he explored the streams, bayous and +lakes in his small canoe, pursuing the elusive +plantigrades.</p> + +<p>The natives of Alaska at that time were +handicapped in their hunting by an order of +the Government which forbade the Indians +to own or use breech-loading guns. This +order was enforced among our peaceful +Alaska natives, who had never had a serious +trouble with the whites, while the Sioux, +Apaches and Nez Perces, who were often +on the war-path, had all the Winchester, +Henry and Enfield rifles they wanted.</p> + +<p>The natives of Alaska at that time—the +early eighties—had only breech-loading, +smooth-bore Hudson Bay muskets; and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span> +their round bullets had not much penetrating +power. They were all right for deer, +but you might fill a hootz full of those big, +round balls and he would still have strength +to tear you to pieces.</p> + +<p>"The more you pester them big bear with +them old-fashioned smooth-bores," said one +of the old white hunters at Fort Wrangell, +"the madder he gits."</p> + +<p>Louie Paul looked so much more like a +white man than like an Indian, and talked +English so fluently, that I had persuaded the +collector of customs—the only civil officer +we had in that region—to permit me to lend +Louie my new 45-75 Winchester repeating +rifle. The repeater was a hard-shooting, +accurate gun, chambering twelve cartridges +in the magazine—the most efficient rifle +made at that time. Louie was a fine shot, +and the possession of this rifle gave him a +great superiority over all the other Indian +bear-hunters. He made more money in his +three or four weeks of hunting in the spring +than Tilly earned by her winter's teaching.</p> + +<p>"I should think you would not be afraid +of a brown bear when you have my Winchester," +I urged. "You could put half a +dozen balls clean through him before he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span> +could get to you."</p> + +<p>Louie shook his curly head doubtfully. +"Mebby so; mebby not."</p> + +<p>Then his face lit up with a broad grin. +"Mebby so I be lak Buck. You hear about +Buck an' Kokaekish?"</p> + +<p>"No," I replied, scenting a story. "What +about them?"</p> + +<p>I knew both these men. Kokaekish was +a fine old Indian, the father of one of our +best boys, whose Christian name was Louis +Kellogg, but whose Indian name was +Kokaek. The name, Kokaekish, means +"Kokaek's Father," illustrating the curious +custom of the Thlingets of naming parents +after their children.</p> + +<p>"Buck" was a French Canadian, Alex +Choquette—a white man who had married +a Stickeen woman and had been adopted +into the tribe. He had seemingly become in +heart and life an Indian, talking the language +of his tribe, thinking their thoughts +and pursuing their customs. How thoroughly +he had become Indianized was evidenced +by the language of Shustaak—the +old heathen chief who had adopted Buck. +"Wuck," he said, "delate siwash. Yacka +tolo konaway nesika kopa klemenhoot."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span> +(Buck is a genuine Indian. He can beat all +the rest of us lying.)</p> + +<p>True to this definition of him, Buck had +built his log house—a combined dwelling-house, +hotel and store—thirty miles up the +Stickeen River, opposite the Great Glacier, +right on the boundary line between Alaska +and British Columbia. Here he sold +blankets, guns, groceries and whiskey to the +white miners and to the Indians. When +the Canadian authorities attempted to arrest +him for his illicit traffic he claimed to be on +the American side. When the Alaska custom +officers went after him, he was a Canadian. +Thus for years he had carried on +his crooked business and escaped punishment.</p> + +<p>"You know Buck," Louie began, "he +worse siwash dan anybody; but he alltam +make fun odder Injun. One day Kokaekish +come Buck store, buy powder.</p> + +<p>"'Where you come?' Buck say.</p> + +<p>"'Iskoot,' say Kokaekish, 'make dry dog +salmon. Now too many hootz, me come +back.'</p> + +<p>"Buck laugh. 'Eehya-a-ah! You <em>shawat-too</em> +(woman-heart); you coward! What for +you 'fraid hootz? S'pose me, I shootem all.'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span> +Buck much laugh.</p> + +<p>"Kokaekish, he shame. He head hang +down, so. Buck more laugh. Bimeby +Kokaekish say, 'Buck, you strong heart. +You want killem hootz?'</p> + +<p>"Buck big bluff. 'Sure' he say. 'You +show me hootz, me shootem quick.'</p> + +<p>"'All light, come along. Me showem you +hootz now.' Kokaekish go he canoe.</p> + +<p>"Buck shame for back out. He get Winchester, +all same you rifle. 'Where you +go?'</p> + +<p>"'No far. Ict tintin, nesika clap.' (One +hour, we find.)</p> + +<p>"Dey go up Iskoot, mebby tree mile. +Fin' leetle stream. Plenty humpback an' +dog salmon dere. Flap, flap, splash in +shallow place. All roun' de grass all flat—plenty +tail, fin, bone. Buck look. He scare, +but shame go back. Leetle hill dere by de +creek. Plenty bush. Kokaekish an' Buck +go up; sit down; wait. Pitty soon sitkum +polakly (half night—twilight), Kokaekish +ketch Buck arm. Whisper, 'Hootz come.'</p> + +<p>"Buck look. Bear all same house—delate +hya-a-as! (very big), come down +creek. Swing slow an' lazy. Go in water; +slap out big salmon on bank pitty near two<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span> +man; go an' eatem.</p> + +<p>"Kokaekish whisper, 'Why you no +shootem, Buck? You brave man! You +much want killem hootz. Shootem quick!'</p> + +<p>"Buck scare stiff. 'Sh-sh-sh! you ol' +fool!' he say. He toof clap all same medicine-man +rattle; water come out on he face; +he shake like Cottonwood leaf.</p> + +<p>"Kokaekish laugh. 'More hootz come,' +he say. Nodder big bear come; growl, +gr-r-r! go fishin'. Den she-bear an' two +leetle feller come. Mamma ketch salmon; +leetle bear play; run up-hill mos' on top man. +Nodder bear come. <em>Six Hootz</em>; ketch +salmon; scrap; one chase nodder; play.</p> + +<p>"Buck not quite die. He lie flat down. +He's finger count he's bead; he play Maly; +he shake.</p> + +<p>"Kokaekish much laugh. He rub it in. +'You brave man, Buck. You white man—no +scare nuttin'. You want see hootz. Me +fin' heem. Why you no shootem?'</p> + +<p>"Bimeby delate polakly (quite dark). +All hootz go leetle way up creek. Kokaekish +shake Buck. 'Mebby so, you no want +more hootz, we go now.' Dey walk han' +an' foot—all same dog. Buck fo'get he's +rifle. Dey fin' canoe; paddle quick Buck<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span> +house.</p> + +<p>"Now all Injun put shame on Buck face. +'Hey, Buck, you want shootem hootz? You +white man; you brave; no scare nuttin'. +How many hootz you kill?' Buck delate +shame. Mos' keel hese'f. Mebby so, I lak +dat."</p> + +<p>"No, Louie," I replied when we had done +laughing, "you are not like Buck. You +would keep your nerve, and at least account +for some of the brown bears."</p> + +<p>"Well," he ventured doubtfully, "dis +Winshesser mighty fine gun. I t'ink I try +hootz nex' tam."</p> + +<p>A week afterwards Louie came to my +house in great excitement. He knocked repeatedly +before I could get to the door.</p> + +<p>"Mista Yuy," he almost shouted, "you +come see my hootz skin. My firs'; my las' +too."</p> + +<p>I went with him to the store where several +fine black bear skins were displayed to +an admiring group of whites and natives. +With them was an enormous brown bear +skin, the largest I had ever seen. The fur +was beautiful—rich in color, thick and +glossy; but it was bloody and badly mussed. +Turning it over I saw that the skin was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span> +full of holes—fairly riddled. I counted +seventeen perforations. The larger and +more ragged of the holes marked the exit of +the balls that had ranged clear through the +bear.</p> + +<p>"Why, Louie," I exclaimed, "what did +you mean by spoiling this fine skin? It is +like a sieve. You have taken away more +than half its value by shooting it up like +that."</p> + +<p>Louie danced about like a monkey—head, +hands, feet, his whole body gesturing, his +voice rising higher and louder as he went on +with his story.</p> + +<p>"You lissen me! I see dis big feller stan' +up all same man. Open place; no big tree. +Maybe hunner ya'd. I say me, 'Louie, you +betta draw good bead dis tam. You shoot +heem straight troo de heart, keel heem dead +fust shot.'</p> + +<p>"I shoot; he fall down. Klosh tumtum +(good heart), me. I put de gun on shoul'er. +Den I look. I 'stonish. De hootz, he git +up queek; he come straight fo' me. I shoot +queek; he fall down; he git up; he come for +me. I shoot; I shoot; I shoot; he fall +down; he fall down; he git up; he come for +me. You betcha boots I hit heem ev'y tam.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span> +I scare to miss. I forgit how many catridge. +I shoot; I shoot; I say, 'Dat's de las'; now +he git me; dat's de las'; now he git me.'</p> + +<p>"I git awful scare. I t'ink, 'Tilly widow +now fo' sure. Nobody git wood fo' her no +mo'.'—Dat bear git close—right here! He +jus' goin' grab me. I mos' fall down; I so +scare. I try once mo'. I put my gun +agains' he's head. I shoot; he fall down; +he don' git up no mo'. My las' catridge. I +put ten ball t'rough heem. <em>No-mo'-hootz-fo'-me!</em>"</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2><a name="ChVI" id="ChVI">VI</a></h2> + +<p class="center"><big>OLD SNOOK AND THE COW</big></p> + + +<p><span class="dropcap">I</span><span class="smcap">n</span> the early missionary days at Fort +Wrangell I had to be a little of everything +to those grown-up, naughty, forest-wise +but world-foolish children of the +islands whom we called Thlingets and +Hydas. I had to be carpenter, and show +them how to build better houses. I had to +be undertaker, and teach them to make coffins +and bury their dead decently. I had to +be farmer, showing them how to raise turnips, +potatoes, cabbage and peas. Once I +gave a package of turnip seed to an old Indian +woman. Towards the close of the +season I went to see her garden. I found +that she had dug a big hole and put all the +turnip seed in it. You can imagine the +result.</p> + +<p>Among other things, I had to be doctor +and surgeon to those people. I had never +taken a course at a medical school and knew +very little about medicine or surgery. But +I had books and studied them and did the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span> +best I could. The hardest surgical cases I +had were the result of little love-taps by old +Mr. Hootz, the big brown bear. This bear +is almost identical, except in color, with +<em>ursus horribilis</em>, the grizzly—he is as large +and ferocious and as hard to kill. Farther +west in Alaska he has the true grizzly color +and is called the silver-tip; but in Southeastern +Alaska he is a rich brown, the female +being much lighter in color than the male.</p> + +<p>Once the Indians brought to me a man +who had been foolish enough to shoot a +hootz with his smooth-bore musket. The +bear charged on the Indian, gave him one +tap with his paw and went away. The poor +man presented a horrible appearance. One +eye was torn out, the skin of one side of his +face torn loose and hanging down on his +shoulder, the cheek laid entirely open. I +did my best for him, washed his awful +wound, replaced the skin on his face and +took many stitches; but I couldn't make a +pretty man of him.</p> + +<p>Another Indian was hunting in the spring +when he came across a little brown cub, and +thought he would have a fine pet. He had +just caught the little fellow and was trying +to hush its cries, when suddenly the mother-bear<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span> +came on him like an avalanche and he +was knocked senseless. When he came to, +hours afterwards, he was unable to move. +The bear had torn off much of his scalp with +the first blow, and then had bitten and +chewed him from head to foot, injuring his +spine, so that he could never walk again. I +dressed twenty-one wounds which the angry +she-bear had given him.</p> + +<p>But the greatest example of the strength +and ferocity of the hootz of which I ever +knew was afforded by the adventure of an +Irishman—a gold-prospector, whom we +called Big Mike. He was a giant in +stature—over six feet, broad and stalwart, +physically the king of the Cassiar miners. +He was a good-natured, happy-go-lucky +fellow, a typical gold-prospector, making +money very fast at times and spending it +just as fast. Like the most of the miners of +the Cassiar region (which was reached by +traveling by steamboat from Victoria to +Fort Wrangell, then by canoe or river +steamboat up the Stickeen River a hundred +and fifty miles, then across country by +pack-train from one hundred to two hundred +miles, according to the location of the +"diggings"), Mike made Fort Wrangell his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span> +stopping place to and from the Cassiar, +sometimes wintering there.</p> + +<p>One day Dave Flannery, another Irishman, +whose Stickeen wife was a member +of my mission, came hurriedly up to my +house.</p> + +<p>"I wish you'd come down and see Big +Mike," he said; "he's hurrt bad."</p> + +<p>I found Mike in one of the miners' +shanties on the beach, lying on a bed, entirely +helpless. He could only use his arms, +his legs being paralyzed. This was the story +he told me:</p> + +<p>"Me an' me partner, Steve," he began, +"has been prospectin' up the Iskoot." (A +tributary of the Stickeen which runs into it +about twenty-five miles from its mouth.) +"Ye know the Iskoot—a domd bad river—little +flat islands thick as spots on a burrd-dog—th' +river swift an' shaller—lots av +quick-sands an' rocks everywhere—th' +shores an' th' islands all matted thick wid +trays an' underbrush—big fallen trays lyin' +across one anodher an' odher trays growin' +out av thim—an' alders, willows, divil-clubs +and salmon-berry bushes thicker'n hair on a +cat.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well, me an' Steve set up our tint by a +trickle av cold water in a side gulch, an' +thought to spind th' sayson prospectin'. +Th' thickets an' brush has scared off +prospectors, an' it's new counthry. A wake +ago Oi made up me pack for four or five days' +prospectin'—blankets, fly tint, an' some +grub, wid gold-pan, pick, shovel an' +coffee-pot on top.</p> + +<p>"Afther an hour o' harrd worrk Oi'd got +mebby half a moil from camp, when Oi come +to Sathan's own pile o' logs an' brush, stuck +up ev'ry-which-way, wid bushes an' divil-clubs +atween. Ye cuddn't see a yarrd. Oi tackled +it as well as Oi cud wid me pack, an' +got onto th' top log. Th' brush wuz that +thick Oi cuddn't see pwhat wuz undher me. +Oi tuk hold av a limb an' swung down into +th' bushes. But before I touched th' +groun'—gr-r-r—woof! somethin' of fur an' +iron was all over an' aroun' me; me breath +was squshed out o' me; somethin' was tearin' +the cords out o' me neck an' shouldher, an' +me back was bruk intoirly.</p> + +<p>"Oi've some repitation as a sthrong man, +an' Oi've niver met th' man Oi cuddent +down in a fair wrassle; but this thing thut +had me didn't play fair. He tuk a foul hold +o' me when Oi wasn't lookin', an' niver guv<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span> +me a chanst to break ut. Whin Oi swung +down me left arrum wuz straight up, aholt +av th' limb, an' the right wan wuz steadyin' +me pack. Th' brute pinned that fast, an' +Oi cud no more move it than a baby cud +lift a ton.</p> + +<p>"When Oi got me sinses gathered togither, +an' knowed Oi wuz in the clutches av +a bear, me dandher riz an' Oi thought av me +knoif. 'Twas in a scabbard on me roight +hip, an' that han' was hild toight agin me +pack. Me blankets saved me ribs from bein' +all stove in.</p> + +<p>"Oi tried to twist aroun' an' git me knoif +wid me lift han', but it was loik a mouse +thryin' to pry off th' paws av a cat. Me fate +wuz aff th' groun' an' Oi had no purchase. +At las' Oi got ahold av th' handle av th' +knoif. Jist as Oi felt me sinses lavin' me Oi +got th' knoif an' begun to dig it wid all me +strent into th' bear's belly, workin' upwards +an' thryin' fer his heart. Thin ev'rythin' +wint black.</p> + +<p>"Whin Oi come to th' sun was hoigh. Ut +must o' bin tree hours Oi laid there sinseless. +Oi throied to git up, but me legs wuz +dead. Oi cud pull mesilf up a little wid me +arrms, an' there Oi saw fur th' furrst toim<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span> +th' baste thut bruk me. He wuz lyin' besoid +me, stone dead. 'Twas all th' joy Oi had.</p> + +<p>"Well, there Oi wuz, undher all th' logs +an' brush, an' down in a little hollow in th' +muck—an' helpless. 'Twas too fur away to +make Steve hear. Oi hollered as best Oi +cud, but 'twas no use. Th' bear hadn't left +me much breath. Then Oi thought Oi'd +thry annyhow. Me arrums wuz good, an' +th' bushes wuz thick, so Oi begun to pull +meself along troo th' muck by me hands, +usin' me knoif whin th' bushes blocked me. +It tuck me two hours to gain th' top av th' +hill in soight av th' camp, an' anither to +make a flag av a bit o' ma shurrt an' wave it +on a pole so that Steve cud see it. He drug +me down to camp, put me in th' canoe, an' +here Oi am wid all th' man squose out av +me, bad cess to th' bear. Ef anny one says +anny man c'n fight anny bear wid his two +han's an' bate it, tell 'im from me he's a +loiarr."</p> + +<p>We raised a purse and sent Big Mike on +the monthly steamboat to Victoria. He +lived several years. They gave him the +position of watchman on the wharves, and +we used to see him—a pathetic figure, +creeping slowly about the dock, first with a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span> +pair of crutches and then with a cane. He was +never a man again, after his encounter with +the hootz.</p> + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<a name="totem" id="totem"><img class="border" style="margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 1em;" src="images/image9.jpg" width="600" height="372" alt="Native Houses, Showing Totem Poles" /> +</a></div> +<p class="center">Native Houses, Showing Totem Poles</p> + +<p class="center" style="margin-bottom: 2em;">In such a house Snook lived</p> + +<p>But although the hootz was so strong and +so fierce there was in almost every Indian +tribe one who would attack and kill him. +In the Stickeen tribe this man's name was +Snook. Tilly, our star pupil and my +interpreter, proudly pointed him out, one day +when I was down in the Indian village, as +her granduncle and the head of the family.</p> + +<p>I had never before seen Snook. He never +came to church or to my house. He must +have been sixty or sixty-five years old—a +great, stalwart, big-boned savage with a +huge head and a tremendous jaw. He was +almost always absent from Fort Wrangell, +hunting in the mountains or fishing among +the islands. "My gran'fader, the greatest +hootz-hunter in the world," was Tilly's +introduction.</p> + +<p>It was on the occasion of a visit with +Tilly to the community house of her family. +As she spoke she went behind the carved +totemic corner post which supported the +roof, and brought forth old Snook's most +valuable and proudest possession. It was a +beautiful spear. The shaft was of crabapple<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span> +wood and eight feet long, thick +enough for a good grip, and polished until +it shone like brown granite. It was carved +all over with the totemic images of the +eagle and the brown bear, the totems of +Snook's family. The head was made of a +large steel rasp and was a foot and a half +long, five inches across in the widest place, +finely pointed, the edges sharp as a razor. +The handle of the spear-head was let into +the end of the shaft in a very ingenious way, +and secured by many tightly wrapped turns +of a cord of deer-sinew. It was a most perfect +and ferocious weapon. I learned that +the chief of another tribe had offered a slave, +whose value was five hundred blankets, for +the spear, and his offer had been refused.</p> + +<p>All efforts to get Snook to talk about his +hunting exploits were unavailing. He only +grunted and went on with some carving +with which he was occupied. But Sam Tahtain, +a member of Snook's family, who was +noted for his powers of oratory, described +most graphically, in a mixture of Chinook, +Thlinget and bad English, Snook's way of +killing the big bears. He acted it so +perfectly that even if I had not understood a +word, the scene would have stood out very<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span> +vividly before my mental vision. He +showed the hootz grubbing among mossy +logs and flirting the salmon out of a swift +mountain stream; then Snook came in sight, +creeping stealthily through the forest, a +flintlock musket in one hand, his spear in +the other. From that point the story grew +more animated and the gestures more rapid +to the climax. I can best tell it in the +present tense:</p> + +<p>The bear hears a stick snap and catches +a faint human odor; he stands up on his +hind feet to investigate. His lips are drawn +back from his big teeth, and he snarls a +question.</p> + +<p>The man dodges behind a tree; creeps +closer—cautiously flits from tree to tree—moves +slowly out from a sheltering trunk—sinks +on one knee—raises his gun—aims. +"<em>Bang!</em>" from the gun,—"wah-a-ah-gr-r-r!" +from the bear. The bear whirls round and +round, biting his wound; then he charges +straight for the man, his teeth champing, his +jaws slavering.</p> + +<p>The man throws away the gun and takes +his spear in both hands. He steps boldly +out in the open and stands still, his left foot +advanced, his spear slanting upwards,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span> +braced for the shock. The bear comes +galumphing on, his hair on end, his sideways +strut showing his anger and his readiness for +the battle.</p> + +<p>When within a few feet of the man the +bear stops short with a startling "Woof!" +and stands upright on his hind feet. The +man knows this habit of the hootz, and +seizes the opportunity. He springs forward +before the bear is steadied on his two feet +and thrusts mightily with his spear. The +bear strikes viciously at the man and howls +hoarsely. A stream of red gushes out from +the wide wound. Now the bear attacks, his +fangs gleaming, his long claws standing +stiffly out. He jumps and strikes and +slashes with his teeth at the man.</p> + +<p>The man is alert—firm and sure on his +feet—quick as lightning, yet steady. He +dodges and leaps about the bear, feinting +and thrusting. Again and again the spear +goes home. The froth from the bear's jaws +is bloody now, while the man's face is +covered with drops of sweat. The breath +of both comes in gasps. The air seems +full of violent motion and raucous +sounds. At every fresh wound the bear +howls—"wa-a-ah"—this changes immediately<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span> +to a vicious growl as he rears on his +hind feet again and rushes to the +fray. The man begins to shout his +war-cry—"hoohooh—hoohooh"—as he jabs +his terrible weapon into the bear's breast.</p> + +<p>The bear is visibly weakening. His eyes +grow dim, his rushes and blows have less +steel and lightning in them. The man begins +to taunt him, "Oh, you big-chief +hootz—I thought you brave man—strong +man. You no brave—no strong. You just +like baby. Why you no stand up, fight like +man?"</p> + +<p>At last the bear, sick and faint with loss +of blood, but game to the end, stands with +paws outstretched, swaying like a drunken +man. The man comes close, and, bending +back to gain force for his blow, thrusts +upward and forward with all his strength, +striking just under the bear's breast bone +and buries the spear-head, splitting the heart +in two. Over on his back topples the great +beast, his paws feebly twitching, his last +breath bringing with it a great rush of +blood.</p> + +<p>The man, as soon as he can recover +breath, puts his foot on the bear's neck, +singing in quaint minor strain a brief song<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span> +of triumph. Then he hastens to prop the +bear's mouth open with a stick, to let his +spirit go forth in peace, and he also places +between the dying jaws a piece of dried +salmon, that the bear may not lack food +when he goes to join the <em>hoots-kwany</em>—the +bear-people, in that spirit land of forests and +mountains to which all brown bears, good +and bad, must go.</p> + +<p>Sam Tahtain was a little man, in striking +contrast with his giant brother, Snook, but +he entered into his recital with infinite +energy, dancing about the floor, striking and +thrusting, acting the bear's part and then +the man's, shouting and growling out his +words; and when he had finished, his own +face was bathed in perspiration. His acting +was an artless piece of art, very perfect +in its way; and it certainly thrilled the +Indians who had drawn around in an eager +circle as the recitation proceeded, their +fervent indrawn exclamations of wonder and +admiration supplying the most genuine applause.</p> + +<p>But I must confess that the antics of the +little man, and his evident pride in his own +performance, struck me as irresistibly funny; +and I could not help recalling a verse I had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span> +learned when a boy:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Little man with the wild, wild eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Man with the long, long hair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why do you dance about the floor?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Why do you beat the air?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why do you howl and mutter so?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Why do you shake your fist?"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Said the little man, in a deep, deep voice,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">"I'm an el-o-cu-tion-ist!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>But the Indians saw nothing funny in Sam's +oratory—it thrilled them through and +through. Even old Snook, the hero of the +story, ceased his carving, fixing his eyes +intently on the speaker, and rewarding him +with a fervent "<em>Kluh-yukeh!</em>" To exactly +translate that exclamation will require a +paraphrase—"My, but that was good!"</p> + +<p>But Tilly thought only of the glory of her +granduncle. Her eyes shone with pride, +and she whispered to me, "Isn't my gran'fader, +Snook, just the bravest man you ever +heard of? Why, he isn't afraid of anything."</p> + +<p>The other Indians also yielded Snook the +palm for courage and strength. They +looked upon him as a sort of Indian superman, +lauding him in their speeches, and being +careful not to offend him. He was the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span> +hero of the Stickeens.</p> + +<p>And, indeed, I was much of the same +opinion. Certainly a man who would stand +up, single-handed, to a grizzly and kill him +with a spear, must have unqualified nerve +and courage. Surely nothing on earth +could frighten a mighty bear-hunter like +that.</p> + +<p>Well, listen. A few days after this visit +to Snook's house I was sitting in my house, +which was within the stockade of the old +fort. The posts of this stockade, some +twelve feet high and firmly spiked together, +had been put in place about sixteen years +before, when the fort was first established. +Although many of the posts were rotting, +the circle enclosing the parade ground, +barracks, hospital and officers' quarters was +still unbroken. Our house was one of the +old officers' dwellings and not far from the +gateway which led "up the beach" towards +the Indian village of temporary houses in +which the "foreign Indians"—those from +distant tribes—encamped. On the other +side of the fort another gateway led "down +the beach," through the town with its stores +and white man's houses, to the large community +houses of the Stickeens. To go from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span> +one Indian town to the other you had to +pass through the fort.</p> + +<p>It was a lovely, sunny day in midsummer. +Everything was peaceful about the old fort. +School was in session in the old hospital, our +little children were playing on the grass, +and our old cow, "Spot," was feeding in the +gateway.</p> + +<p>This cow was a little black and white +Holstein which the ladies of Pennsylvania +had purchased for Mrs. Young's training-school, +and to supply our babies and the +native babies with fresh milk. She was the +first cow which had been brought to Fort +Wrangell, and was a great curiosity and +wonder to the Indians. The Thlingets had +no name for cattle, because these animals +were not known in Alaska; so they adopted +the Chinook name—moosmoos—and, owing +to the Thlingets' inability to pronounce any +consonant that brings the lips together, they +called it "wusoos."</p> + +<p>Our little "wusoos" was gentle and tame +as a kitten. Our children used to hang onto +her tail, and feed her bunches of grass and +leaves of cabbage. Once I came upon a +group that made me laugh. "Spot" was +lying down and placidly chewing her cud;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span> +Abby, aged five, was seated between the +cow's horns; while Alaska (Lassie), who +was three, with her little dog, Jettie, in her +arms, was sprawling on Spot's back.</p> + +<p>This peaceful summer's morning the cow +was cropping the grass by the gate. Suddenly +the silence was shattered by a strong +Indian voice, pitched high through fear, +calling to me: "<em>Uh-eedydashee; uh-eedydashee, +uh-Ankow; uh-eedydashee!</em>" (Help me; help +me, my chief; help me!)</p> + +<p>I ran quickly out of the house and through +the gateway in the direction of the cries, +which were growing more agonizing. I +thought somebody was being murdered. I +rushed past "Spot," who was calmly munching +grass, undisturbed by the hullabaloo. +At first I could see nobody; then I +discovered the huge bulk of old Snook, the +hootz-hunter, crouching behind a stump. +His face was as pale as its coating of smoke +and grease would permit, and he was shaking +like a leaf.</p> + +<p>"Why, Snook!" I cried in Thlinget, +"what's the matter? Is anything wrong in +the Indian village?"</p> + +<p>He pointed a trembling finger towards the +cow and quavered, "Drive that thing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span> +away!"</p> + +<p>The thought of that famous old bear-hunter, +scared to death at my gentle old +cow, was too much for me, and I burst into +a roar of laughter. When I had recovered +my powers of speech and locomotion I +walked to "Spot" and put my arm over her +neck.</p> + +<p>"This is a <em>shawat wusoos</em>" (a woman cow), +I explained. "She will not hurt anybody. +See how kind and gentle she is."</p> + +<p>Snook was unconvinced. His eyes were +fixed in fascinated terror upon "Spot," and +he dodged at every motion of her head.</p> + +<p>"Eehya-a-ah!" he answered in contempt, +"she knows white man; she doesn't know +Indian. See the sharp horns on her head!" +and he refused to come away from the +shelter of the stump until I had driven +"Spot" away some distance; and even then +he sidled past, eyeing her apprehensively +and then hurrying through the gateway and +across the parade ground with the air of one +who has escaped deadly peril.</p> + +<p>The memory of Snook and the cow has +often braced me up when I was tempted to +retreat from the path of duty, because I did +not know what was in the gateway, or because<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span> +of unfamiliar obstacles. It is the unknown +that terrifies us. If we march right +up to the bugaboos that stand across our +way, we will find the terrible horned monster +change into something no more harmful +than a gentle old cow.</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2><a name="ChVII" id="ChVII">VII</a></h2> + +<p class="center"><big>NINA AND THE BEARS</big></p> + + +<p><span class="dropcap">A</span><span class="smcap">ll</span> these stories are true, in their +essential points. In some of them, +however, I have to change or suppress +the names of persons and towns, because +the characters introduced are still +living, and might not like publicity. That +is the case in this story.</p> + +<p>Ever since the great gold stampede of +1897 into the Klondike, it has been my duty, +as it certainly has been my pleasure, to +follow the new gold stampedes into different +parts of Alaska, and be at the beginning of +most of the new gold camps and towns of +the great Territory of the Northwest. Of +course I began preaching as soon as I arrived +at one of these camps, holding my first +services on log piles, under the trees, in tents +or saloons or lodging houses—wherever I +could gather together a congregation.</p> + +<p>Always, the next thing was to start a +Sunday-school, if there were any children in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span> +camp, or at least a Bible class, if there were +only grown people. I always had hymn-books +and a baby-organ along, and was sure +of finding people to play the organ and sing. +The gold-seekers are not all roughs and +toughs, as some people think, but just such +people as may be seen in the States, and a +large proportion of them are Christians.</p> + +<p>One of the greatest of these gold stampedes +occurred in the heart of Alaska—in +the center of a great wilderness until then +unexplored. A rich vein of gold was struck +deep down in the frozen ground. The news +spread, and soon thousands of eager gold-seekers +from all parts of Alaska, from the +Pacific States, from Canada, and later from +all parts of the United States came over the +mountains from the coast, down the Yukon +from Dawson City, up the Yukon from +Nome and from other directions; traveling +by steamboat, poling boat and canoe on the +rivers, and with dog-sled, horse-sled and +hand-sled in the winter over the mountains, +and with packs on their backs and guns in +their hands in the summer.</p> + +<p>Of course I was with the crowd. I never +liked to miss the fun of a great scramble like +that. When I got to the big new camp I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span> +set up my tent and began to prepare a +preaching-place and to advertise a meeting +for the next Sunday by putting up posters +on stumps and trees. I also called the children +to come and be organized into a Sunday-school. +About twenty children came the first Sunday.</p> + +<p>Among them was a pretty little Swedish +girl, named Nina. She had blue eyes, flaxen +hair and rosy cheeks, and was about twelve +years old. She won my heart at once, and +soon we were great chums. She was so +bright and pleasant and sweet, and such a +fearless and intelligent outdoor girl, that +one could not help loving her. She was always +at Sunday-school and church, always +knew her lessons, and sang so heartily and +tunefully that people turned their heads +to see her, and her sunny smile drew +answering smiles even from care-worn +faces.</p> + +<p>I soon found that among Nina's +accomplishments she was already a good shot +with both rifle and shotgun; and when the +snow began to fall in October I took her with +me on a couple of rabbit-hunts, and her glee +at getting the biggest bag of snow-shoe +rabbits was very enjoyable. Rabbits formed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span> +our principal meat-supply that winter.</p> + +<p>When the cold weather of November +covered the rivers, creeks and lakes with ice +and carpeted the hills and valleys with snow, +a big stampede occurred away from the +town of log houses into which the camp of +tents had grown. Almost every one who +had a dog-team and sled packed up an outfit +of food, blankets, tent and sheet-iron +stove, and "mushed" away into the mountains, +prospecting for gold. If no dogs were +available, two men, or sometimes a man and +his wife, would harness themselves to a sled +with their outfit aboard, and, depending +upon their guns for their meat supply, would +cheerily set forth into the trackless wild, +following the water-courses until they found +a likely-looking creek, when they would halt +and build a snug log cabin, and spend the +winter prospecting. To those who had +courage, some knowledge of woodcraft and +love of nature, this adventurous life was very +enticing. Thousands of men in Alaska, to +this day, spend their summers in the towns, +working at their trades or professions, and +then, on the approach of winter, invest the +money they have earned in an outfit of +provisions, tools and ammunition, and bury<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span> +themselves in the wilderness again. It is a +great life; and I have often felt strongly +tempted to leave everything and join these +brave spirits for a winter's stay in the +McKinley range of mountains.</p> + +<p>One day, about the middle of November +of that year, little Nina came into our house +and threw herself into our arms, crying as if +her heart would break.</p> + +<p>"Why, Nina dear," asked my wife, +"what is the matter? Is any one sick or +dead?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no," she sobbed, "but I can't come +to Sunday-school any more. Papa and +Mamma and I are going away off into the +mountains to-morrow, and we'll never come +back here again."</p> + +<p>We petted and soothed her, the best comfort +I could give her being the thought of +the great hunting adventures that were before +her. So the wilderness swallowed up +my brave little friend, and for eight years I +had no word of her. By that time I was at +another large gold camp, in a distant part of +the great Yukon Valley.</p> + +<p>I was the only minister in a region larger +than Pennsylvania. My parish extended +from two to five hundred miles in different<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span> +directions from the camp in which I wintered. +That winter I traveled with my dogs +between two and three thousand miles, in +preaching and exploring trips. Magazines, +papers and books sent me by churches, +Sunday-schools, Boys' Scouts, and women's +missionary societies, I found three hundred +miles from my central reading room, in +miners' and trappers' cabins and in +roadhouses to which I had sent them.</p> + +<p>About the middle of the winter I was +delighted to get a letter from Nina. It was +written from a point about two hundred and +fifty miles distant, in that great game-stocked +region which lies west of the Alaska +Range, of which Mt. McKinley, "The Top +of the Continent," is the highest peak. It +was a cheery, girlish letter—just such an +one as I might have expected from +Nina—grown-up. It told me of her marriage, +two years before, to a young man whom +I had known—one who had loved her +when she was a little girl, had followed +her and her parents to the western wilderness, +waited patiently for her to grow up, +and, now that they were married, seemed to +her all that was admirable and complete in +manhood. It was her one romance and was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span> +very sweet and perfect.</p> + +<p>Nina and her husband were living in a +large cabin on one of the trails that led from +the Interior to the Coast. Nina called it a +roadhouse, and, though low and dark, with +only poles for floor, and pole-bunks for beds, +it was fitted for the accommodation of a +dozen travelers. Nina was queen of a wide +realm. Her cabin was a hundred and +twenty-five miles from that of the nearest +white woman. They were two hundred +miles from the nearest store. They were in +the heart of the richest game region of +North America—the western foot-hills of +the Alaska Range. They were prospectors +for gold in the summer; farmers, raising +their own potatoes and vegetables and +wheat for their chickens; trappers during +the winter; hunters all the time; and +hotel-keepers during the six months when snow +and frozen streams and lakes lured travelers +along the lonely trail.</p> + +<p>There was in Nina's letter, however, no +hint of loneliness; rather a joyful tone of +contentment, as one of God's favored +creatures; and of comradeship with the +things about her—the mountains, the forests +and the myriads of animals, small and great.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span> +She invited me to come and make them a +long visit and have a big hunt. Her letter +also spoke of the one need in her life that I +could supply—Bibles, books and magazines.</p> + +<p>Very few travelers came my way who had +passed Nina's that winter, but from most +of them I heard of my little chum, and always +in terms of enthusiastic praise.</p> + +<p>"I am a city man," said a young lawyer +from Seattle, "and am in this wild land just +long enough to make my stake and get back +to the rattle of the street-cars. The 'call of +the wild' has no allurement for me. There +is just one thing that could make me settle +down in Alaska, and that is to find such a +mate as that little woman."</p> + +<p>"Know her?" repeated a rugged, black-eyed +man of thirty whom I had met on the +Chilcoot Pass in '97. "Who doesn't? Say; +she's a great woman. Why, I'd go out of +my way a hundred miles, any time, just to +see her smile, and to taste her grouse-pie or +roast sheep. Tell you what she did this last +trip: As I swung into the edge of their +clearin' a pair of sharp-tailed grouse flew up +to the top of a dry spruce, a hundred yards +from the cabin. Nina was complainin' that +she had no makin's of grouse pie in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span> +house, knowin' my likin' for the same. I +told her about the two I'd scared up. 'Lend +me a shotgun,' I said, 'and I'll go back and +try for a shot at them.' We stepped to the +door for a look. There set the two grouse +on the spruce, lookin' like robins agin the +sky. Nina took down a twenty-two rifle +from the wall and put some 'extra-long' +shells in the magazine. I thought she was +goin' to give the gun to me, and I planned to +sneak back till I got under the birds before +riskin' a shot; but she stood in the doorway +and swung the rifle up quick and easy. +Crack, crack! and dogged if them chickens +didn't come tumblin' right down. I never +seen such shootin'. Then she slipped on +her snow-shoes and went and got the grouse +and made me my pie. She's sure a little bit +of 'all right.'"</p> + +<p>I asked him if he had seen the magazines +and Bibles I had sent her. With a sheepish +grin he took out of his pocket a little red +Testament, and handed it to me. I saw his +name on the fly-leaf with her initials under +it.</p> + +<p>"First I've carried since I was a kid," he +confessed. "And she made me promise to +<em>read</em> it! A woman that can be a bright<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span> +little Christian in a place like that, and a +dead game sport, too, can make me do most +anything. Joe [Nina's husband] is a lucky +guy."</p> + +<p>Naturally such reports as these made me +all the more anxious to see this queen of the +wilderness again. The necessity of taking +a seven-hundred-mile trip to the Coast in +March gave me the opportunity.</p> + +<p>Oh, boys, you'll never know the real joy +of living till you take a winter trip with dog-sled +in Alaska. The keen, fine air, lung-filling, +invigorating; your dogs yelping with +eagerness, their feet twinkling, the sled +screaming its delight; frost-diamonds sparkling +from every branch, frost-symphonies +played by the ice-harps under your feet; +your own struggle, achievement, triumph, +against and over the cold, the difficulties of +the trail, the long miles.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The morning breaks, the stars grow pale,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your huskies leap, shrill shrieks the sled;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You follow free with flying tread;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A joy to live! What joy! to thread<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fluted ribbon of the trail."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>It was near the sunset of a beautiful, +bright day that I swung into Joe's clearing.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span> +For three days I had been headed almost +directly towards Dinali—The Great One, +and Dinah's Wife (Mt. McKinley and Mt. +Foraker). Higher and higher these majestic +mountains heaved their mighty shoulders. +The country became more broken and +rugged. Lesser mountains raised their +white heads all around me. Only a few +inches of snow covered the ground instead +of the six to ten feet that prevailed farther +west. The character of the trees had +changed—more birch, cottonwood and other +deciduous timber; less tamarack, hemlock +and swamp spruce.</p> + +<p>Signs of abundant life were everywhere. +Fox, wolf, lynx and wolverine tracks +criss-crossed the snow in all directions; great +moose tracks going in a straight line, and +the imprint of thousands of caribou hoofs +crossing and obliterating each other, but +keeping in the same general direction +showed the presence of abundance of big +game; while grouse, ptarmigan and rabbit +tracks were so numerous that my dogs were +kept excited and on the "keen jump" every +minute.</p> + +<p>On the bank of a small river, in a clearing +of a couple of acres cut out of a forest<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span> +of great fir and cedar trees, stood Joe's +log-cabin roadhouse. Enough of the big trees +had been left standing to shade the house. +In front of it were a dozen cozy log +dog-kennels, and behind it was a garden enclosed +in a picket and wire fence.</p> + +<p>As soon as "Leader's" bells gave shrill +notice of my arrival the door flew open, a +bright little figure in gingham and moccasins, +with yellow hair flying and blue eyes +sparkling, rushed at me, and I received the +first good hug that I had experienced since +leaving my wife and daughters in the East +a year before.</p> + +<p>A cheery voice cried, "Oh, you dear old +man, you. I've been watching for you every +day for two weeks. I was so afraid you +weren't coming!"</p> + +<p>Joe's welcome, though not so demonstrative, +was none the less hearty. It was +worth dog-mushing two hundred and fifty +miles to have such a reception. As soon +as I stepped into the house I was made +keenly aware that I was in the home of +hunters and trappers. In all my wide +experience of wilderness homes I had never +seen one like this. The long, low cabin had +two rooms. The smaller was kitchen and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span> +dining-room, having a sheet-iron range and +home-made tables, shelves and chairs. The +larger room had a good sized sheet-iron +heating stove in the center, and was almost +filled with bunks in tiers of three each, built +in double rows the length of the room. A +little chamber enclosed with snowy caribou +buck-skin, the skins sewn together most +skillfully with sinew thread, was Nina's +bedroom. The poles which formed the floors +had been hewn and laid so carefully that +they looked like boards. The tables and +shelves were of whipsawed lumber, every +article showing painstaking skill.</p> + +<p>"Joe and I made the cabin and everything +in and about it, all ourselves," Nina +boasted.</p> + +<p>"What!" I exclaimed, "you two rolled +up these heavy logs, without any help?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, indeed. We used block-and-tackle. +It isn't so hard when you know how; and it +was great fun."</p> + +<p>"But the lumber for the doors and tables +and window-sash—it's so true and smooth +and beautiful; how did you get that?" I +asked.</p> + +<p>"Whipsawed and hand-planed it all," she +replied. "You see, we came here two<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span> +years ago this month, just after we were +married. The Government was surveying +this trail, and we thought we'd build this +roadhouse and pick up a few dollars taking +care of travelers. But chiefly we chose this +place because it was so beautiful and such +a game country. Then it has never been +prospected for gold.</p> + +<p>"Joe and I each had a good dog-team and +sled when we were married. We loaded the +sleds with tools, hardware, stoves and dishes, +glass for the windows, some flour, sugar, +beans and a few other groceries, and +brought our traps and plenty of ammunition +for our guns. It was hard breaking trail +through the deep snow on the east side of +the Alaska Range, but nice going on this +side. We mushed the two hundred and +fifty miles from the coast in two weeks; and +had some time for trapping before warm +weather."</p> + +<p>"How do you get 'outside' in the summer +time?" I inquired.</p> + +<p>"We can't, and we don't need to. We +spent that first summer building this house, +making garden, gathering berries, drying +fish, hunting and getting ready for the winter. +Almost all our wants are supplied right<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span> +here. From the middle of April till the +middle of October we don't see a human +being, except now and then an Indian, or a +stray prospector."</p> + +<p>"What a lonesome life!" I exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"Now, Doctor, I know you don't mean +that," protested Nina. "Why, this is the +most companionable place in the world. It +is full of friendly creatures. The winter +before I was married I spent three months in +San Francisco. I nearly died, I was so +lonely and homesick. I'd meet thousands +of people on the streets every day, and not +get a word or smile from one of them. I +wouldn't give my little 'Red' for the whole +crowd."</p> + +<p>"Who's Red?" I asked.</p> + +<p>Nina leaned forward and made a squeaking +noise with her lips. Instantly a little +furry creature of a bright scarlet color, with +a short tail, jumped out of a box in the +corner, ran to her and up her hand and arm +to her shoulder and then down to her knee, +where he stood stiffly erect like a soldier at +attention. He was so quick and comical in +his motions and so full of tricks that he kept +us laughing.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I had three Reds," explained Nina, "but +a weasel got two of them before I got the +weasel. I have had many other pets besides +the wood-mice. There isn't a creature +in all the forest that would do me harm unless +I hurt it first. And I don't have a +grudge against any of them, except the +hawks and owls that come after my +chickens."</p> + +<p>The most striking feature about the cabin, +however, was the abundance and variety of +furs and other trophies of the chase. +Adorning and almost covering one end of +the room was an enormous moose head. +At the other end was a wonderful caribou +head. Over the windows were beautiful +heads of the white mountain sheep, the +bighorn of the Northwest.</p> + +<p>But the pelts! Great bunches of mink, +marten, fisher, otter, muskrat and beaver; +scores of red fox, with here and there a +priceless black or silver fox; lynx, wolf, +wolverine and black bear.</p> + +<p>"We have four lines of traps, each five +miles long," explained Nina; "and Joe and +I each take two lines every other day, spending +the alternate days caring for the skins. +We are making bear traps now, getting +ready for Bruin when he comes out of his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span> +den. We have about four thousand dollars' +worth of furs caught this winter, and +we'll make it five before warm weather."</p> + +<p>But the most imposing objects of all in +the cabin were two tremendous rugs—the +skins of the <em>ursus gigas</em> or Kodiak bear—the +largest of existing carnivorous mammals. +Joe had learned something of taxidermy, +and the heads were nicely preserved, the big +teeth and claws showing, the skins being +lined with red blankets. The largest of +these rugs was over twelve feet long, the +distance from nose to tail over ten feet, the +lateral spread being almost as great. The +fur was a rich brown in color, deep, thick +and soft.</p> + +<p>At my exclamation of wonder and admiration, +Joe began eagerly to tell me the story +of the rugs; but his wife stopped him.</p> + +<p>"Better wait till after supper, Joe," she +said.</p> + +<p>Ah, that supper! The supreme physical +pleasure of it lingers in my memory still. +Moose soup with potatoes, turnips, carrots +and onions from their garden in it; fresh +grayling, caught in the fall and frozen; +ruffed grouse pie; roast mountain sheep—the +best meat that grows; omelet made of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span> +eggs laid that day; moose-nose cheese, +delicately pickled; fine sour-dough bread +with raspberry jam and currant jelly; pie +made of fresh blueberries, the berries having +been picked in the fall and preserved by the +simple process of pouring water on them +and letting them freeze. All of these viands, +except the bread, being the products of +Nina's labor or marksmanship, made them +doubly sweet. Where else in the world +could you get a meal like that—or the +appetite to devour it all?</p> + +<p>"Well," began Joe, when, sated, I lay +back in the easy-chair curiously fashioned +of moose horns, while the young couple +washed the dishes, "I'm mighty proud of +them rugs. They're Nina's, both of 'em, +and I reckon there's no other girl in the +world would of tackled the job she did, and +got away with it. It scares me every time +I think of it, and I don't know whether I'd +oughter scold her or pet her up."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense!" protested his wife; "you +know you'd have done exactly as I did if +you'd been here."</p> + +<p>"Maybe I would," he retorted, "but I +wouldn't of let <em>you</em> take that risk."</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<a name="bears" id="bears"><img class="border" style="margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 1em;" src="images/image10.jpg" width="600" height="339" alt="Five Kodiak Bears" /> +</a></div> + +<p class="center">Five Kodiak Bears</p> + +<p class="center" style="margin-bottom: 2em;">The bear to the right is twice the size of a Grizzly</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span></p> + +<p>"It was the first of last November," he +resumed. "I'd taken the two sleds and all +the dogs, as soon as I thought the ice was +strong enough, and I'd gone two hundred +miles to the store at Ophir to lay in our +winter's outfit. The ice towards the coast +wasn't strong enough to make safe mushin', +and Nina was all alone here for more'n three +weeks. I knowed she would make the reg'lar +round of the traps and keep things goin' +just as usual. She's never learned to be +afraid—that girl.</p> + +<p>"Well, one mornin' she was gettin' breakfast, +when she heard a little noise outside. +She opened the door, and there, within +twenty-five feet of her, were three big +Kodiak bears. Two of them stood up on +their hin' feet when she opened the door, +while the other kept smellin' around for +grub."</p> + +<p>"Goodness, Nina!" I exclaimed. "What +was your first thought when you saw the big +brutes so close?"</p> + +<p>"Well," she answered, smiling, "my first +thought was, 'What beautiful rugs those +are on the backs of the bears! I want those +rugs.'"</p> + +<p>"Yes," Joe went on, "and so she stepped +slowly back, inch by inch into the house,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span> +and softly closed the door so as not to <em>scare</em> +the bears—they as big as a house and her +such a leetle mite of a thing. She took +down that 30-40 Winchester, there, and +filled the magazine full (it chambers ten); +and then she done a plumb foolish thing. I +know darned well what I'd 'a' done. I'd +'a' poked the moss out between the logs, +there, and stuck my rifle through and had +some 'vantage."</p> + +<p>"What did Nina do?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"Why, she threw the door wide open and +stepped right out in front of it. Up came all +three bears, this time, on their hind feet. +Nina's lightnin' on the snap shot, and before +the big he-bear was straightened up he got +it right between the eyes. Down he +tumbled, and the other two was out of sight +around the kennel there before she could +throw another shell into the gun and aim." +Joe pointed to a log dog-house about two +rods in front of the door.</p> + +<p>"Nina raced pell-mell past the kennel to +get another shot, and there she saw the big +she-bear, standin' up behind the dog-house, +awaitin' for her, not a gun's length away. +Nina swung around and fired pointblank +into the bear's breast. It went down on<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span> +all-fours and came for her with open mouth. +There was nothing for it but to keep on +shootin'. She worked the lever of her gun +mighty fast. She put five bullets into the +beast before she quieted it. She never saw +the third bear again."</p> + +<p>"Why, Nina!" I cried, as soon as I could +get my breath. "You foolish child! Your +escape was miraculous! It frightens me to +hear Joe tell of it. Weren't you dreadfully +scared when you saw that great brute jump +at you like that?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no," laughed the girl. "I was too +busy to get scared. But I was awfully +provoked because the other one got away."</p> + +<p>Other details of Nina's great adventure +followed—how it took her three days to skin +the two bears, she having to climb a tree to +adjust the block and tackle so as to move the +heavy carcases; and how Joe "blubbered" +when he got home and saw them, and knew +the peril his beloved had encountered.</p> + +<p>Nina is an exceptional woman, but still +she is truly a type. There is something in +"that great, big, broad land, way up yonder," +that stiffens the moral fiber, enlarges the +spirit and makes the people unafraid. The +white settlers of Alaska, while by no means<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span> +all saints, are as a class the strongest, +bravest and most resourceful people I know. I +have not heard from my brave little chum +for several years. I presume she is still +living her joyous, fearless, Christian life in +what John Muir used to call my "beautiful, +fruitful wilderness." Here's to her; God +bless her!</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2><a name="ChVIII" id="ChVIII">VIII</a></h2> + +<p class="center"><big>THE ABSURD WALRUS</big></p> + + +<p><span class="dropcap">L</span><span class="smcap">ewis</span> C<span class="smcap">aroll's</span> famous lines +about the Walrus and the Carpenter +will always hold their place at the +very top of humorous poems. For besides +being funny they have a quality of truth +which the careless reader little suspects:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The time has come," the walrus said,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">"To talk of many things,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of shoes and ships and sealing wax,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of cabbages and kings;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And why the sea is boiling hot,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And whether pigs have wings."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The very few men who have been acquainted +with the walrus in his native haunts know +that the author of "Alice in Wonderland" in +these verses "hits the nail on the head," +and, perhaps unwittingly, gives an insight +into the true character of the walrus as the +most inconsistent, grotesque and absurd of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span> +all beasts.</p> + +<p>It was my good fortune the summer of +1913 to be one of a company of six hunters +on board the three-masted power schooner, +<em>P. J. Abler</em>, which sailed along the Alaskan +and Siberian coasts for six thousand miles +and pounded its way northward into the +Arctic ice-pack to within sixteen degrees of +the Pole.</p> + +<p>The ship itself was of unusual pattern. +Her owner called her the <em>Mudhen</em>. Her +three masts stood stiff and straight in a row +and were the same height. Her lines were +not particularly elegant, and her small engine +could only push her through calm seas +at the rate of five miles an hour. But she +was a comfortable ship and had one quality +in particular which overbalanced all the +drawbacks and made her the boat for us—she +was built for "bucking ice." She had +extra heavy timbers, especially about her +bow. In spite of her slowness, she was an +ideal craft for venturing into Arctic +ice-floes. She would come at a good speed, bow +on, against a huge berg and bring up with a +jar that would shake her as a rat shaken by +a terrier, and send your plate of polar bear +meat into your lap. Then she would recover<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span> +from her backward bounce and calmly +proceed on her way undented and unharmed. +Mr. Scull of Philadelphia, who has sailed the +world over, could never get used to bumping +the ice. He and I would be bent over the +chess board, absorbed in a difficult situation, +when—bang! would go the schooner against +the ice, and recoil, trembling like a hound. +I would grab for the tottering chessmen, +while Scull would jump right into the air +with his hair standing straight up on each +side of his bald pate like the ears of a horned +owl. He would rush frantically out of the +cabin door, lean far over the vessel's side, +train his big eye-glasses on the ship's bow +and watch for signs of her filling. Then he +would come back muttering strange words +in any of the five or six languages of which +he is the master, and resume his study of +the game, only to repeat the performance at +the next bump. "Oh!" he would say, "it +hurts me more than it hurts the ship"; +which was undoubtedly true. I always had +better luck in chess with Scull when we were +bucking ice.</p> + +<p>The personnel of our party was like some +landscapes, varied and interesting. The +commander of the expedition and its manager,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span> +was Captain Kleinschmidt, sailor, +miner, hunter, author and moving-picture +man. He chartered the <em>Abler</em> and hired +her crew, who were as cosmopolitan as it is +possible for crew to be—the captain, a +Swede; the mate, a Dane; the engineers +(brothers) German-Americans; the cook, a +"Jap"; the crew composed of one American, +one Russian and five Eskimos. There +were two taxidermists to take care of the +birdskins, bugs, mammals, etc., collected.</p> + +<p>Of the four hunters, who, with Captain +Kleinschmidt, financed the expedition, three +were from Philadelphia: Scull, our polyglot +interpreter, a publisher of books; Collins, a +manufacturer; and Lovering, a young man +who had lived part of his life in Wyoming. +The fourth, Dr. Elting, was a surgeon of +reputation from Albany, N. Y. All were +experienced hunters, Scull and Collins having +followed trails in Africa and America, Dr. +Elting in the Western States and Canada, +and Lovering in the West. As for myself, +the guest without responsibility or care, +"taken along," as the captain said, "to lend +dignity to the expedition," you can call me +by my common names: "The Sour-dough +Preacher," "The Mushing Parson," "The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span> +Alaska Sky-Pilot," or any of half a dozen +Northwestern cognomens, of all of which +I am equally proud.</p> + +<p>My object in joining this expedition was, +first, to have a big hunt and a grand rest. +But, more than the outing, I valued the +privilege of exploring ground untrodden by +the missionary, and, if possible, doing +something towards bringing the Gospel to the +heathen Eskimo of the Alaskan and Siberian +shores.</p> + +<p>We were all "out for a lark," glad beyond +expression to be hundreds of miles +from a telegram or newspaper, to be able to +wear our dirty clothes and eat in our +shirtsleeves without shame; to forget that such +things existed as automobiles or stiff collars +or dinner parties. We had four months of +a royal good time—along the Asiatic Coast +after Siberian sheep, on the Alaska Peninsula +for caribou and brown bears, on Kenai +Peninsula after moose, white sheep and +black bear, among the islands of the Southern +Alaska Coast and Bering Sea with the +bird and seal rookeries, and pursuing polar +bear amid the ice-floes of the Arctic Ocean.</p> + +<p>We visited many Eskimo villages; we +shot for the museums hundreds of varieties<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span> +of birds on the Siberian and Alaskan Coasts; +we captured new species of beetles, moths, +butterflies and other insects; the camera +fiends and moving-picture man reveled in +novel scenes, animate and inanimate. We +buffeted storms, pounded ice and sailed +sunny seas.</p> + +<p>But the climax of our joyous outing was +the three or four days we spent among the +walrus herds off the Northern Siberian +Coast. Scull and Collins, who had hunted +everything in Africa from dikdik to rhinoceros, +declared that none of their experiences +in that continent approached in thrilling +interest their days with the walrus herds.</p> + +<p>For the walrus is <em>sui generis</em>: there is no +other mammal at all like him in appearance, +habits, habitat or characteristics. He is the +least known or written about of all the +larger animals. No thorough study has ever +been made of him. More is known of the +habits of the extinct woolly elephant—the +mammoth, whose bones, tusks, and even +hair and skin we find on the Alaskan Coast—than +the walrus. And what has been written +and the common ideas concerning this +animal are so erroneous as to be funny.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span></p> + +<p>A century or so ago a naturalist-traveler, +writing about the Eskimos and the <em>morse</em>, +as the walrus was then called, said that the +tusks of the animal are for the purpose of +pulling himself up the icy mountains where +he lives; that his habit is to thus work his +way up to the top of the dizziest peak; that +the Eskimos pursue him there and cut +holes through the thick skin of his flippers +unknown to the huge pachyderm, whose +hide is impervious to sensation. Then, +having passed strong ropes through these +holes and tied them to the jutting crags, +they raise a hullabaloo, and the walrus, +alarmed, precipitating himself down the +mountain, jerks off his skin, which the +Eskimos then use in the construction of +their boats and houses. The year before +our hunt, a California gentleman, interested +in Captain K.'s moving pictures, asked him +whether the walrus brought forth their +young alive or laid eggs and hatched them.</p> + +<p>In May, 1913, when discussing my proposed +outing with some of my ministerial +brethren, at the General Assembly at Atlanta, +a good Doctor of Divinity tried to +deter me from undertaking it because of its +dangerous character.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Is it not true, Dr. Young," he asked +with great solicitude, "that the walrus sometimes +devours human flesh?"</p> + +<p>I patiently explained that the walrus has +no incisors, no teeth at all but flat grinders, +level with the gums and far back in the jaws, +"and therefore he cannot rend or eat anything +so very tough as a missionary"; and +that moreover his mouth is situated back +of a narrow opening of three or four inches +in width between his tusks, so that nothing +bulky can enter it. "He might drown me +but he couldn't eat me!"</p> + +<p>The "D. D." listened with open skepticism +and put this poser: "How then can he +devour his prey?"</p> + +<p>"What prey?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"Why, the seals and salmon and other +large sea animals on which he feeds."</p> + +<p>Again I sternly suppressed my rising emotions: +"But he doesn't eat these things. +He couldn't catch them and doesn't want +them. He is only a clam-eater. His tusks +are not spears, but an admirably constructed +clam-hoe. He could not live without them; +and his stiff whiskers form a fine brush to +clean the clams of mud before he dines off +them."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span></p> + +<p>The good brother glanced from one to +another of the listening group with a look +that plainly said: "How sad it is that such +shameless prevaricators will even slip into +the ministry;" and walked off muttering +something about consulting "authorities."</p> + +<p>Illustrating my own roving habits, while +a pioneer missionary in Alaska, I have sometimes +said, using a common simile, that I +"had no more home than a jack-rabbit." I +am changing this now to a stronger +expression; "no more home than a walrus." +He is the most constantly on the move of +all the vagabonds. Even when sleeping he +is moving, for the only home the poor fellow +has is the ice-cakes which form in the Arctic +Ocean and Bering Sea, entirely filling the +former and in the winter crowding down the +latter to about fifty-eight degrees, north +latitude. The walrus herds, for the greater +part of the year, keep on the borders of this +great field of ice. In the summer when the +Bering Sea ice melts and also that of the +southern part of the Arctic Ocean, the walrus +keeps on the flat ice-cakes which float +over the great clam beds of these shallow +seas. As the ice forms in the fall and the +ice-floes extend southward he sets out on a +long swim ahead of the fast freezing ice,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span> +resting occasionally on the Siberian shore, +the Diomedes, St. Lawrence, St. Matthews +and other islands. When the ice-field has +extended to its southern limit he resumes his +ice-house-boat habit and returns north in +the spring.</p> + +<p>So little is known of the life history of +the walrus that I am unable to speak with +confidence, but the young are evidently +brought forth very early in the spring, April +or May, and float with their mothers (the +females and young herding together), up +into the Arctic Ocean as far as the shoals +off Wrangle Island, one hundred and fifty +miles north of the Siberian Coast. There +the little ones are guarded by the cows, +which during the summer months are the +only really dangerous walrus ever met with. +Were the walrus the ferocious and combatant +animal he is sometimes depicted, it +would be a risky thing indeed to hunt him +in skin boats or any other small craft. +Imagine three or four tons of muscular +fierceness, armed with strong, sharp, spearlike +tusks, charging at you. The front part +of his head is a solid mass of tough bone +more than a foot thick. He could strike his +tusks through your boat and sink it in an instant,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span> +or hook them over the edge and upset +you, spearing you one by one in the water.</p> + +<p>But the huge pachyderm is the most timid +and good-natured of animals. It is only +when the female fears for the safety of her +young that she shows anything like ferocity. +In 1911 Captain Kleinschmidt was taking +moving pictures of the walrus herds. He +had two catamarans, made by lashing two +kyaks together with firm cross pieces. In +the foremost craft two Eskimo hunters with +their spears were paddling ahead, to slip up +on the herds and harpoon them at the proper +time, while the moving-picture man was in +the other craft to take pictures of the herds +and of the whole performance.</p> + +<p>A herd of cows and their young had been +frightened from an ice-cake into the water. +Suddenly one of these cows thrust her tusks +forward, the sign of a charge: "Look out!" +cried K. to the Eskimo as the cow dived. +They made frantic efforts to paddle their +kyaks to the nearest berg, but the cow came +up under the craft and slashed with her +tusks one of the kyaks, ripping the bottom +and filling it with water. The other kyak +of the catamaran tilted dangerously, the +Eskimo in the sinking one throwing himself<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span> +upon it, and the two frightened natives made +their escape to the ice-cake. Coming to +the surface again the cow sighted Captain +K.'s catamaran, thrust her tusks forward +again and dived; he saw her body deep in +the water coming toward him and thought +his time had come; but luckily when she +struck the canoe had veered and received +only a glancing blow. She came to the surface +within a yard of the picture man, who +had his rifle ready and thrust it against her +brain and pulled the trigger, which ended +that affair. But it was a perilous adventure, +and one is liable to meet with such if he is +so rash as to venture among the herds of the +cows with their young.</p> + +<p>During this hunt of ours, although we saw +great herds aggregating hundreds of walrus, +we did not see a cow or calf among +them; only the big bulls herded together +and occasionally a solitary one.</p> + +<p>After passing Cape Prince of Wales into +the Arctic Ocean we had a week of battling +with winds and tide before we got into the +ice-pack well up towards Wrangell and +Herald Islands. We had another week of +pounding ice, poking through the narrow +"leads," constantly turning and running the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span> +other way in our effort to get to the shores +where the walrus herds would feed.</p> + +<p>We had fun with the polar bears, but, +with one exception, saw no walrus for nearly +two weeks of this strenuous fight. This one +exception was a big old bull that we +sighted reposing in solitary dignity on an +ice-cake in the midst of this vast white +solitude.</p> + +<p>Captain K. took Dr. Elting with him in +the kyaks which we manufactured into a +catamaran, and while the <em>Abler</em> lay "off and +on" the two hunters whom we watched +through our field-glasses made their sinuous +way behind ice hummocks through the +narrow "leads" and around the jamming +cakes of the ice-field. We saw them at last +seemingly right upon the walrus, on the +same cake. The big fellow was fast asleep +in the uneasy fashion that all walrus and +seal have of sleeping; that is, every two or +three minutes they will raise their heads and +move them back and forth, during which +time the hunters must keep perfectly still +and if possible behind the ice-cakes. The +walrus, however, has not the keen sight of +the seal, and is more easily approached.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span></p> + +<p>Our hunters moored their skin boat on the +ice-cake close to the walrus, crept up behind +a hummock right upon him, and Dr. Elting +put his bullet into the brain of the beast, +which is situated in his neck, and not in +what appears to be his head. It was an +easy and not very exciting triumph. What +possessed this old bull to lie there alone +scores of miles from his companions, I do +not know. He may have been there two or +three weeks on that one ice-cake, as the +Eskimos tell us this is sometimes their +habit.</p> + +<p>It was not until August eighteenth that +we got sight of our first walrus herd, and +then for three days we were right in the +midst of them. We had been driven by +buffeting winds and threatening ice-packs +away from the vicinity of the islands far +westward along the Siberian coast and were +perhaps thirty or forty miles from land. +The cry was raised from the "crow's nest": +"Walrus!"</p> + +<p>The appearance of the herd as we +approached it was very unlike anything +imagined by those who had not hitherto +seen these animals. All sorts of comparisons +crowd upon one's imagination when +trying to describe them. Some of them<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span> +look like huge caterpillars and have an exactly +similar motion, except that their +antennæ are bent downward instead of upward. +Sometimes when bunched up they +look like immense squirrels. Sometimes +when scratching themselves with their +flippers they have the languid movements +of a fashionable lady fanning herself; and +again, when two are sparring at each other, +they have the fierce mien of gladiators. +But always there is that particularly comical +edge about them that impels to irresistible +laughter, as when one approaches a cage of +monkeys. Their attitudes and motions are +so unexpected and ridiculous.</p> + +<p>I did little hunting myself but went with +the other hunters in the <em>oomiak</em> or large skin +boat; and I believe I got more enjoyment +than any one else of the party; for I was not +doing the killing, and was enjoying equally +the misses and the hits of the others and, +above all, the study of these huge and +interesting brutes. Many of my preconceived +notions, obtained by reading and by hearsay, +were put to flight during those three or four +days.</p> + +<p>Only a few years ago a report to the +Smithsonian Institute was published in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span> +which it was stated that the walrus were +very watchful and wary, and that when reposing +on the ice-cake they selected a large +bull to climb the highest pinnacle and keep +watch for foes, and that when he grew +weary of his vigil and wished to sleep he +would prod the bull next to him with his +tusks and let him take his turn while the +former watchman took a nap. It was thus +inferred that the walrus scanned the region +of ice with eagle eyes and had a system of +signalling similar to the organized human +gunboats or armies.</p> + +<p>But this is all nonsense. The fact is that +the walrus cannot see more than ten or +twelve feet at the most, and even at that +distance I doubt whether he can distinguish +more than the mere outlines of any object. +His eyes are the eyes of a fish, small and +rudely constructed and exceptionally +nearsighted. They are made for use in the dim +depths of the sea. When the sun shines the +walrus shut their eyes and apparently cannot +open them. When alarmed they rush into the +water and then come up and will crowd within +five or six feet of the moving-picture +man or hunter, bulging their eyes +like those of a crab in frantic attempts to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span> +see their foe.</p> + +<p>We clad ourselves in white muslin parkas, +and got our <em>oomiaks</em> or <em>kyaks</em> boldly up under +the noses of these great beasts with them +staring down upon us. The only thing we +had to guard against was their getting our +wind. If we kept to leeward of them we +were always out of their sight. The strange +bulging of the eyes when excited gives a +most grotesque appearance to the countenance +of these walrus, as ordinarily their +eyes are deep sunken in their heads.</p> + +<p>Let me sketch a picture from life: It is the +twentieth of August. We are in the vicinity +of Cape North on the Northern Siberian +coast. We are twenty or thirty miles offshore. +The day is warm, sunny, still. The +ship is tied to a large iceberg; a wilderness +of floating ice-cakes stretches in every direction +to the horizon. In some places these +are massed together; again there will be +little open places, and ragged leads, but +everywhere ice, ice, ice. And it is all in +motion; a slow heaving and grinding of the +floe, and the tidal currents moving in different +directions and with varied rapidity, +but all trending northwest, the landscape—or +seascape—changing every minute. There<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span> +are herds of walrus all around us, some +numerous, containing two or three hundred +on one cake of ice, others small; here a +group of four or five big bulls on a cake just +large enough to hold them; then fifteen or +twenty on a wider berg with little hummocks, +up the slopes of which the big brutes +crowd.</p> + +<p>Scull and Lovering have taken the kyak-catamaran +and are paddling to the nearest +bunch of walrus not five hundred yards from +the ship. Captain K. has launched the big +skin boat, or <em>oomiak</em>, and is perched on the +high stern, steering. His aeroscope +moving-picture machine and graphlex camera, +his field-glass and rifle are by him. "Eskimo +Prank" and I are in front of him with our +paddles; while Dr. Elting and Collins are +in the bow, with paddles in their hands and +their big Ross and Mannlicher rifles close +by. We corkscrew our way through the +ice, steering past a bunch of walrus on a +small cake. "Small ice—lose um quick," +says Prank. We are heading to a herd of +twenty or thirty, with some big tuskers +among them. We keep to the leeward of +them, for the sense of smell seems to be +their one keen sense, and even that does<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span> +not compare in acuteness with the nose of +the polar bear or the caribou.</p> + +<p>Captain K. and "Eskimo Prank" are the +only ones in our party who are perfectly +calm and unexcited, and they seem to the +rest of us rash and careless. The boat is +steered right in sight of the herd, and we +are getting close to them. Now the big, +ugly heads of five or six which have been +digging clams come up right alongside of +us. Suddenly their heads rise high out of +the water and their sunken eyes bulge out +as they stare up into our faces. It takes a +whole minute's scrutiny to satisfy them that +we are enemies, and they go down with +great splashing and blowing to come up +again almost in the same place and stare at +us again. So we are escorted up to the +edge of the ice-cake on which the herd +reposes. As a precaution against discovery +we list the <em>oomiak</em> so that its side protects us +from their sight.</p> + +<p>We range alongside the cake; "Prank" +and I hold it steady by clutching spurs of +ice. The captain with his picture machines, +and the hunters with their guns crawl out on +the ice. They are clad in white parkas—but +there is plenty to see about them in all<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span> +conscience, and they make plenty of noise. +We are only twenty or thirty feet from the +nearest walrus. Two or three big bulls are +on the hummock right above us. The +captain and the hunters maneuver about, +cautiously but sometimes in plain sight, and +discuss, in voices clearly audible three times +the distance, the question as to which have +the best tusks, which lie most favorably for +a good shot, in which hump of the neck the +brain lies and just where to shoot. The +captain gets his bulky aeroscope placed and +sets the engine to buzzing and clacking. +The hunters are waiting for the beasts to +turn just right so as to expose the brain. +For the brain of a walrus is as small as that +of a rhinoceros in proportion to its size—about +as big as one's two fists,—and you +must know just where it is, and place your +ball right through it, or your game will flop +and flounder in his dying struggles and roll +into the sea and you'll lose him. Hence the +nervous care and uncertainty of the hunters. +For ten or fifteen minutes we wait for the +chance, the favorable moment.</p> + +<p>But about that foolish sentinel story: A +beast that cannot tell an <em>oomiak</em> full of bipeds, +or these same bipeds with guns or cameras<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span> +from a fellow walrus at the distance of ten +yards, doesn't plan and place a relay of +watchmen. We learned from close and long +observation that the walrus couldn't see us +in the sunshine—their eyes were shut, or +nearly so, and dim when open. Neither can +they hear well. They have no external ear +at all, only a tiny hole which requires close +observation to discover. Even the near +roar of a heavy rifle does not always alarm +them, and hunters with smaller rifles have +killed one after another of a whole herd until +all were slain, without causing a stampede. +Of course the repeated shots of two +or three rifles close at hand will generally +cause them to rush into the water, but even +that does not always scare them. A heavy +shot near by will bring all heads up, but if it +is not repeated they will soon go to sleep +again.</p> + +<p>But what a thrilling time it was for me as +I sat in the boat or on the ice-cake and +watched the drama! It was far more +comedy than tragedy. The great beasts, as +heavy as elephants, were lying in bunches +or rolling around like a lot of huge, fat hogs. +Here a great bull with long tusks was lying +on his back and scratching himself against<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span> +an ice hummock, wriggling and squirming +like a Newfoundland dog. Another was +curled up in an impossible heap and scratching +the top of his head with his hind flipper. +Another was making his way through a +bunch of sleeping comrades, rolling them +around or scrambling over them and fighting +those that resented his intrusion. Some +were swimming about the landing place of +low ice and trying to scramble onto the cake, +and these would disturb a whole bunch of +the lazy animals and there would be trouble.</p> + +<p>And the noises they made were as various +and interesting as their positions. One huge +fellow, so close to me that I could have +punched him with a bamboo fishing-rod, +shook his head slowly from side to side with +shut eyes and groaned with a dismal falling +cadence, for all the world like a fat old man +with the rheumatism: "O-o-o-h: D-e-a-r me, +d-e-a-r me; this world's a wilderness of +woe!"</p> + +<p>Another was optimistic, and his was a +sigh of infinite content. "A-a-h-h!" he said, +"what a nice, soft, warm bed this ice-cake +is! How fat and delicious those clams were! +And I don't believe there is one of those +horrible, malodorous little human bipeds<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span> +with his deadly bang-stick within a hundred +miles of us." And there we were within +twenty feet of him, trying to locate his +brain-pan!</p> + +<p>Some grunted like pigs in sheer laziness. +Others barked sharply as they prodded each +other with their strong, sharp tusks: "Get +off my stomach, you lazy son of a clam-digger! +Wow! Wow!"</p> + +<p>Two of them were sparring like gladiators, +raising their heads high and roaring defiance; +but it was all good nature, for in a +minute they were lying asleep, one with his +head across the other's neck.</p> + +<p>All their movements, attitudes and voices +had such a droll element; all were so +irresistibly funny that I wanted to lie down on +my back and roar with laughter.</p> + +<p>But our hunters wanted big heads and +tusks as trophies; our Eskimos desired some +hides to make their <em>oomiaks</em> and to cover +their houses; and we wanted tons of meat +for the women and children of the Siberian +villages. And so after a while the rifles +roared and roared again and again, and the +hunters moved close up, working their levers +fast. The mad scramble of the walrus for +the water was a most grotesque sight.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span> +They charged blindly ahead whichever way +they happened to be lying, humping up their +backs as they drew their hind flippers under +them and stretching out again, just like the +"woolly bear" caterpillars I used to tease +when a boy. Those that escaped the volley +splashed heavily into the water and dived +deep, but presently they were all at the surface +again, blowing and coughing, bunching +in masses, crowding close to the feet of the +moving-picture man, stretching their heads +six feet out of the water, popping and rolling +their ochre-colored eyes in frantic efforts to +see. Then one would get a whiff of the +dreaded man-scent and would go down with +a mighty splash and snort, and the whole +crowd would follow suit, soon to come up +and repeat the performance five or six times +before they could finally get it into their +slow brains that this was a dangerous +neighborhood.</p> + +<p>We had four most interesting days among +the walrus, and the hunters were sated with +sport and trophies. My wishes were more +modest. I had announced to Dr. John +Timothy Stone, the Moderator of the +Atlanta General Assembly, 1913, that my +grand object in going on this hunt was to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span> +kill a walrus myself, get his tusks and have +a couple of ivory gavels made out of them, +that I might present them to the outgoing +and incoming moderators of the next +General Assembly, which was to meet in +Chicago, 1914.</p> + +<p>I got my walrus in this fashion: Captain +K., Dr. Elting and I were in the <em>oomiak</em> with +"Eskimo Prank." Dr. E. had got a fine +head, and we were cruising about, when +we spied a bunch of seven or eight big walrus +on a hummocky berg near the edge of +the ice-floe. The swell of the open ocean +came in here with considerable force, and +long, smooth topped billows heaved among +the ice-floes, washing far up on the shelving +bergs. We pushed our boat into a narrow +passage and the swell took it and landed the +bow on the ice right in the midst of the +walrus. The captain and the doctor took +the hazardous chance and leaped on the ice, +placing the muzzles of their rifles almost +against the heads of their selection. I was +not quick enough to make the jump, but as +the <em>oomiak</em> surged back with the receding +wave I saw a walrus charging down the +sloping ice diagonally from me. Both he +and I were moving rapidly and in opposite<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span> +directions and I could only take a hasty +"wing" shot. It was the most difficult shot +of all my experience. I was standing +uncertainly in the plunging <em>oomiak</em>, swaying +and tottering as the light craft shot down +the receding wave away from the iceberg; +while the frightened walrus was humping +himself for all he was worth, trying +frantically to get off the ice-floe into the +ocean, his head bobbing up and down with his +rapid motion. I was wobbling in one direction +and he in another, and the space between us +was widening fast. There was no time to +be lost. Balancing most unsteadily, I swung +up my rifle for a snap shot. It was a great +moment. I had little hope of hitting the +mark; but my walrus fell to the crack of the +rifle, with his nose in the water. A delay of +one-tenth of a second and I would have lost +him. I had my gavels.</p> + +<p>The closing scene of our walrus drama +was a comedy scene, and possessed what +every drama ought to have—human interest. +We had pounded our way southeast +again through the fast thickening ice-floe +driven upon us by a strong northwest wind. +At one time to the least experienced of the +party it seemed as if there was no possible<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span> +way out, as if we must spend the winter on +the bleak shore of Northern Siberia. But +always the narrow leads opened before us, +and after two or three days of slow and +careful work through the ice we emerged from +it, and before a strong, fair wind we bowled +along towards Bering Strait. The early +morning of August twenty-fifth found us +anchored in the harbor of East Cape, after +a hard struggle against wind and tide.</p> + +<p>Here is a large Eskimo village. The +Tchukchees, or reindeer-herding Eskimos +do not roam as far north as this, and these +were the seal and walrus hunters. They +depend almost entirely for their food upon +the sea, and a shortage of these animals +sometimes causes starvation.</p> + +<p>This village is situated behind a high +bluff, but it is not well sheltered, and a fierce +wind offshore caused the ship to tug violently +at her anchor, and made landing +difficult. Captain K. and the Eskimos got +a boat ashore and secured a stout line to the +ship. Then the eight or nine great carcases +on our deck were heaved by the donkey +engine into the sea. They would float by +this time. They were not spoiled at all in +the estimation of the Eskimo, only "ripe."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span> +They were tied to the line and then a large +crowd of Eskimos took hold, ran up the +beach and so towed the meat ashore.</p> + +<p>Then, what a scene! Out from every +one of those large balloon-framed, +skin-covered houses poured the men, women and +children, shouting, screaming, hurrying in +joy and excitement. The men with high +waterproof mukluks were cutting up the +carcases, and men and women would seize +the hunks of meat and rush away to their +houses, pursued by scores of wolfish dogs +which leaped and snapped at the meat. +Occasionally the dogs would succeed in getting +away with a large chunk, when instantly +there would be a general mix-up from which +some of the dogs would emerge limping and +howling. There was a dog-fight every five +minutes.</p> + +<p>The moving-picture man and the camera +fiends moved about "taking" the crowd. +The men with old ivory ornaments, white +ivory implements, and other curios to sell +besieged the white men. In all the houses +cooking was going on, and many were +chewing on the raw blubber. It was a day of +days to these poor people, and for the first +time on our voyage of pleasure we felt<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span> +ourselves benefactors to the human race. "The +calendar of these Eskimos will date from +to-day," said the only American white man +who lives in East Cape village. "They will +count time all winter from the day of the +big feed of walrus meat."</p> + +<p>But better than the meat for their bodies +which we procured for these poor people of +the Arctic shore, was the Bread of Life that +I was able to direct to several Eskimo towns, +from the knowledge gained in this great +walrus hunt.</p> + + +<p class="center" style="margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em;"><em>Printed in the United States of America</em></p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + + + + +<div class="transnote"> + +<big>TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE:</big> + +<p>Obvious printer errors have been corrected. +Otherwise, the author's original spelling, +punctuation and hyphenation have been left +intact.</p> +</div> + + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Adventures in Alaska, by Samuel Hall Young + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ADVENTURES IN ALASKA *** + +***** This file should be named 44077-h.htm or 44077-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/4/4/0/7/44077/ + +Produced by Charlene Taylor, Chris Whitehead, Linda Cantoni +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images +generously made available by The Internet Archive/Canadian +Libraries) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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