THROUGH THE YUKON FLAT-LANDS.
[Illustration]
After passing Johnny's village in descending the stream, and more
perceptibly after leaving Charley's village, the country opens rapidly,
and another day's drift of forty-two and a half geographical miles
brought us to what an old trader on the lower river calls the "Yukon
flat-lands," an expression so appropriate that I have adopted it,
although I have never heard any other authority for its use.
While descending the stream on the 24th, late in the forenoon, we saw
a large buck moose swim from one of the many islands to the mainland
just back of us, having probably, as the hunter would say, "gotten our
scent." I never comprehended what immense noses these animals have
until I got a good profile view of this big fellow, and although over
half a mile away, his nose looked as if he had been rooting the island
and was trying to carry away the greater part of it on the end of his
snout. The great palmated horns above, the broad "throat-latch" before,
combined with the huge nose and powerful shoulders, make one think
that this animal might tilt forward on his head from sheer gravity, so
little is there apparently at the other end to counterbalance these
masses. When the Russians were on the lower river these moose-noses
were dried by them and considered great delicacies. A few winters
ago the cold was so intense, and the snow covered the ground for so
great a depth throughout the season, that sad havoc was played with
the unfortunate animals, and a moose is now a rare sight below the
upper ramparts of the river, as I was informed by the traders of
that district. It is certainly to be hoped that the destruction has
only been partial, so that this noble game may again flourish in its
home, where it will be secure from the inroads of firearms for many
decades to come. Not long since the little river steamer that plies
on this stream for trading purposes, owned by the Alaska Commercial
Company, could hardly make a voyage to old Fort Yukon and back without
encountering a few herds of these animals swimming across the stream,
and exciting were the bouts with them, often ending in a victory for
the moose with the "Yukon" run aground on a bar of sand or gravel; but
for some years not an animal has been seen by them. Formerly the meat
they secured in this way, with what they procured from the Indians
along the river, assured them of fresh food during the month or so they
were absent from St. Michael's; but their entire dependence for this
kind of fare has been thrown upon the salmon furnished by the natives,
which is much more difficult to keep fresh during the short hot summer
of the river.
This river steamer, the "Yukon," was daily expected by "Jo" Ladue, and
upon it he intended to return to Nuklakayet, his winter station. I
also hoped to fall in with it during the next week, as our civilized
provisions were at a very low ebb and I wished to replenish them.
During a great part of our drift on the 24th, we were accompanied by Jo
and his three Indian allies, in their scow, who said they would keep
us company until we met the "Yukon" steamer. While we were leisurely
floating along, "Jo" saw a "short cut" in the river's bend, into
which we could not row our ponderous craft, and down this he quickly
disappeared, remarking that he would pick out a good camping place for
us for the night.
Although we were well out of the high mountainous country, we could see
the chain through which we had passed still bearing off to the left,
the summits in many places covered with snow, long fingers of which
extended down such mountain gullies as had a northern exposure. As we
emerged from the hilly country the soil, for the first time, seemed to
be thick and black wherever it was exposed to our eye by the caving in
of the banks; and grass, always good, now became really luxuriant for
any climate. In many places we saw grass ready to mow, were it not for
the fact that even the largest prairies have an undergrowth of stunted
brush which one might not observe at a distance in the high grass, but
which is very perceptible in walking through it. The greatest obstacle
to cattle raising in the Yukon valley would be the dense swarms of
mosquitoes, although I understand that a couple of head of cattle were
kept at old Fort Yukon for one or two summers. By burning off all
timber and brush from large districts and a little judicious drainage
it might be possible to encourage this industry with the hardier breeds
of cattle, but at present the case is too remote to speculate upon.
I now remarked in many places along the flat river-bottoms--which had
high banks, however--that the ground was covered, especially in little
open prairies, with a tough sponge-like moss or peat. If the bank was
at all gravelly, so as to give good drainage, and to allow of the
river excavating it gradually, as is usual in temperate climes, this
thick moss was so interwoven and compacted that it would not break or
separate in falling with the river banks, but remained attached to
the crest, forming great blankets of moss that overhung the shores
a foot thick, as I have endeavored to represent on this page, _a.
b._ representing the moss. Some of these banks were from fifteen to
eighteen feet in height, and this overhanging moss would even then
reach to the water, keeping the shores neatly sodded to the water's
edge on the inclined banks, and hanging perpendicularly from those
that projected over. Great jagged rents and patches were torn out of
the hem of this carpet by the limbs and roots of drifting logs, thus
destroying its picturesque uniformity. I suppose the reason why it was
more noticeable in open spaces was that the trees and underbrush, and
especially their roots, would, from the effect of undermining, carry
the moss into the water with their heavy weight as they fell.
[Illustration: MOSS ON YUKON RIVER.]
At half-past five o'clock we sighted a steamer down the river which
we thought might be the Alaska Commercial Company's "Yukon" coming up
around a low island of sand, but it proved to be a beached boat called
the St. Michael's, lying high and dry, about ten or twelve feet above
the present water level, on a long, low island of sand and gravel.
Some years before, a rival corporation to the Alaska Company, called,
I believe, The Northern Trading Company, tried to establish itself
on the Yukon River, (and elsewhere in Alaska, but the Yukon district
only concerns us here), and trading houses were built in many places
along the stream, most of them within a short distance, perhaps a
mile or two, of those established by the Alaska Commercial Company.
Fierce competition ensued, and I was told that the Indians got goods
at wholesale prices in San Francisco, _i.e._, at almost infinitesimal
prices compared with those they were accustomed to pay. The Alaska
Company was finally victorious, but found matters considerably changed
when the struggle was over. When they attempted to restore the prices
of the old _régime_, and to ask immediate payment--for both companies
had given the Indians unlimited credit--such a hornet's nest was
stirred up that ultimately the company was obliged to abandon nearly
a half-dozen posts, all above Nuklakayet, for fear of the Indians,
who required a Krupp steam-hammer to pound into their thick heads the
reason why a man might sell them a pound of tobacco for ten cents
to-day and to-morrow charge them ten dollars an ounce; especially when
they have to pay for the latter from the products of the trap, and the
former is put down in the account book in an accommodating way. The
Northern Trading Company also put on the Yukon River this boat, the St.
Michael's, a clumsily-built stern-wheeler that had wintered at Belle
Isle, and on going down with the spring freshet had struck this bar,
then under water, and as the river was falling she was soon left high
in the air.
We camped for the night on the same bar, which I called St. Michael's
Island, and about an hour afterward "Jo" and his scow came along and
pulled up to camp on the opposite shore. He explained his delay--for
I really thought he had passed us and was camping further down--by
saying that he and his Indians had been hunting, and he produced two
or three ducks, in the very prime of their toughness, as corroborative
testimony, but I surmised that the true story was that "all hands and
the cook" had gone to sleep, whereupon the scow had likewise rested on
the soft bottom of some friendly sandspit. The remainder of the journey
confirmed this suspicion.
Starting from Camp No. 38, on St. Michael's Island, the river, as
the map shows, becomes one vast and wide network of islands, the
whole country being as level as the great plains of the West, and we
were fairly launched into the "Yukon flat-lands." As we entered this
floor-like country our Chilkat Indians seemed seriously to think that
we had arrived at the river's mouth and were now going out to sea; and
I can readily imagine that even a white person, having no knowledge
of the country, might well think so. There was an almost irresistible
impression that beyond the low flat islands in front one must come in
sight of the ocean.
As we started out into this broad, level tract, the mountains to the
left, or west, still continued in a broken range that was thrown back
at an angle from the river's general course, and projected into a sort
of spur formed of a series of isolated peaks, rising squarely out of
the flat land, and diminishing in size until they disappeared toward
the north-west in a few sharp-pointed hillocks just visible over the
high spruce trees of the islands. I called them the Ratzel range, or
peaks, after Professor Frederick Ratzel, of Munich.
This flat character of the country continues for about three hundred
miles further, and the river, unconfined by resisting banks, cuts
numerous wide channels in the soft alluvial shores, dividing and
subdividing and spreading, until its width is simply beyond reasonable
estimation. At Fort Yukon, about a thousand miles from the mouth, its
width has been closely estimated at seven miles, and at other points
above and below it is believed to be twice or thrice that width. This
breadth is measured from the right bank to the left across shallow
channels and flat islands, whose ratio to each other is, on the
whole, tolerably equal. Some of these islands are merely wide wastes,
consisting of low stretches of sand and gravel, with desolate-looking
ridges of whitened drift-timber, all of which must be under water in
the spring floods, when the river in this region must resemble a great
inland sea. In no place does this wide congeries of channels seem to
abate its former swiftness a single jot, but the constant dividing and
subdividing occasionally brought us to lanes so narrow and shallow that
it seemed as though we could not get through with our raft, and more
than once we feared we should have to abandon our old companion. For
nearly three weeks we were drifting through these terribly monotonous
flat-lands, never knowing at night whether or not we were camping on
the main bank, and by far the most frequently camping on some island
with nothing but islands in sight as far as the eye could see.
On the 25th we got under way quite early, and at 8:30 A. M. passed
an Indian encampment of four very fine-looking tents, situated on an
island, and here "Jo" Ladue told us he would stop and await the arrival
of the Alaska Company's new steamer. I had suspicions that "Jo" did
not like the pace we kept up, or rather that he did not relish being
awakened whenever his scow sought the quiet of an island shore.
But a few minutes afterward there was a junction of several channels
of the river, and we floated out into the lake-like expanse ahead with
a vague feeling that so much water could hardly possess any current,
but nevertheless we sped along at our old pace. This sheet of water was
wider than the majority of the lakes at the head of the stream, and it
was hard not to revert to them in thought, and imagine ourselves unable
to move without a sail and a good wind abaft. Very soon an ominous line
of drift timber appeared in our front, seeming to stretch from shore to
shore as we approached it, and the great channel broke up into half a
dozen smaller ones that went winding through sand-spits and log-locked
débris, down one of which we shot and were just breathing more freely
when the same occurrence was repeated, and we slipped down a shallow
branch that was not over fifty yards in width, only to bring up on a
bar in the swift current, with less than a foot of water ahead over
the spit that ran from the bar to the shore. Near the other shore was
a channel so deep that we might have floated with ease, but to reach
it again we should have to pry our vessel up stream against water so
swift as almost to take us off our feet. Through this deep channel
every thing was carried on our backs to the shore, and then commenced
a struggle that lasted from ten o'clock in the morning until well past
two in the afternoon; our longest and most trying delay on the trip,
and which limited our day's travel to thirty-six miles in fourteen
hours' work. Half as much would have satisfied us, however, for I think
it was the only time on the trip when we made serious calculations
regarding the abandonment of the raft and the building of another.
There were other occasions when such an event seemed probable, but in
some way we had managed to escape this necessity.
Our camp that evening was on a bank so high and solid that we
conjectured it must be the main bank (of the eastern side). So steep
was it that steps had to be cut in it in order to reach the top with
our camping and cooking effects.
At this camp--39--and a few of the preceding ones we found rosebuds
large and sweet enough to eat, and really a palatable change from the
salt and canned provisions of our larder. They were very much larger
than those we are accustomed to see in the United States proper and
somewhat elongated or pear shaped; the increase in size being entirely
in the fleshy capsule which was crisp and tender, while even the seeds
seemed to be less dry and "downy," or full of "cotton," than those of
temperate climes.
The mosquitoes were a little less numerous in the flat-lands, but, at
first, the little black gnats seemed to grow even worse. Mr. Homan,
who was especially troubled by these latter pests, had his hands so
swollen by their constant attacks that he could hardly draw his fingers
together to grasp the pencil with which he recorded his topographical
notes. Dr. Wilson and I experimented with some oil of pennyroyal taken
from the medicine chest, which is extensively used as an important
ingredient of the mosquito cures advertised in more southern climes. It
is very volatile and evaporates so rapidly that it was only efficacious
with the pests of the Yukon for two or three minutes, when they would
attack the spot where it had been spread with their old vigor. Mixed
with grease it held its properties a little longer, but would never do
to depend upon in this mosquito infested country.
I noticed that evening that banked or cumulus clouds, lying low along
the horizon, invariably indicated mountains or hills stretching under
them if all the other parts of the sky were clear. At that time we
recognized the Romantzoff range by this means, bearing north-west, a
discovery we easily verified the next morning when the air was clear
in every direction. At no time while we were drifting through the
flat-lands, when the weather and our position were favorable, were
hills or mountains out of view, although at times so distant as to
resemble light blue clouds on the horizon.
Although we were at the most northern part of our journey while in this
level tract, actually passing within the Arctic regions for a short
distance at old Fort Yukon, yet there was no part of the journey where
we suffered so much from the down-pouring heat of the sun, whenever
the weather was clear; and exasperatingly enough our greatest share of
clear weather was while we were floating between the upper and lower
ramparts.
All day on the 26th the current seemed to set to the westward, and we
left island after island upon our right in spite of all our efforts,
for we wanted to keep the extreme eastern channels so as to make old
Fort Yukon, where we had learned that an Indian, acting as a trader for
the Alaska Company might have some flour to sell. Our most strenuous
efforts in the hot sun were rewarded by our stranding a number of times
on the innumerable shoals in the shallow river, delaying us altogether
nearly three hours, and allowing us to make but thirty-three miles,
our course bringing us almost in proximity to the western bank. I knew
that we must be but a short distance from old Fort Yukon, at which
point I intended to await the river steamer's arrival so as to procure
provisions, for I had only two days' rations left; but this day had
been so unfavorable that I almost gave up all hope of making the Fort,
expecting to drift by next day far out of sight of it. About eleven
o'clock that night "Alexy," the half-breed Russian interpreter for
Ladue, came into our camp in his canoe, saying that Ladue had gone on
down to Fort Yukon that day, keeping the main right-hand channel which
we had missed, and that we were now so far to the west and so near Fort
Yukon that we might pass it to-morrow among the islands without seeing
it unless we kept more to the right. After receiving this doleful
information, which coincided so exactly with our own conclusions, we
went to sleep, and "Alexy" paddled away down stream, keeping a strong
course to the east, but it would have required Great Eastern's engines
on board of our cumbersome raft in order for us to make it.
[Illustration: THE STEAMER "YUKON," (IN A HERD OF MOOSE).
(A scene in the Yukon Flat-lands.)]
From the moment of our casting loose the raft, on the morning of the
27th, we commenced our struggle with the current to gain ground,
or rather, water, to the eastward, often with double and treble
complements of men at both oars. Point after point we successfully
essayed, working like pirates after their prey; and fully a half dozen
of these, I believe, were so closely passed across their upper ends
that a score less of strokes would have allowed us to float down the
western channel. Almost at the last minute we got such a straight away
course to the right bank that looking backward it seemed as if we had
ferried our way directly across the river, and as we rounded the last
island Fort Yukon's old dilapidated buildings burst into view, in the
very nick of time, too, for that particular island extended well below
the site of the old fort, and we passed around it hardly a good hop,
skip and a jump from its upper point. We could not suppress a cheer as
the hard earned victory was won, for to verify the old adage that "it
never rains but it pours" good luck, there at the bank was the river
steamer "Yukon" and from her decks came a rattling volley of shots
to welcome us and to which we replied almost gun for gun. A little
more hard pulling and we landed the raft just above the buildings and
about three or four hundred yards above the steamer, which we at once
prepared to visit. The "Yukon" is quite a small affair compared with
the river boats of the United States, but quite well built and well
modeled. They spoke of it as a ten-ton boat, although I took it to be
one of double or treble that capacity, its machinery being powerful
enough to drive a vessel of five or six times that tonnage against any
ordinary current, but very necessary for a boat of even the smallest
size on such a swift stream as the Yukon. The machinery took up the
greater portion of her interior and were it not for the upper decks, it
would have been difficult to find room for her large crew. The moment
I caught sight of the crew they seemed so like old acquaintances that
I was on the point of probing my memory for the circumstances of our
former meeting, when a second thought convinced me that it was only my
familiarity with the Eskimo face that had produced the effect of a
recognition. These Eskimos had been hired on the Lower Yukon, and but
for their being a little more stolid and homely than those of north
Hudson's Bay, I should have thought myself back among the tribes of
that region. They make better and more tractable workmen than any of
the Indians along the river, and in many other ways are superior to the
latter for the white men's purposes, being more honest, ingenious and
clever in the use of tools, while treachery is an unknown element in
their character. The master of the "Yukon" was Captain Petersen, and
the Alaska Company's trader was Mr. McQuestion, both of whom had been
for many years in the employ of that company on the river. From the
former I ascertained through information which he volunteered, that he
had a large ten or twelve ton river schooner at the trading station
of Nuklakayet, some three hundred miles further down the river to
which I was welcome when I reached that point with the raft. After the
"Yukon" had ascended the river as far as Belle Isle, he would return
and would pick us up wherever found and tow the schooner or _barka_ as
it was called in the local language of the country, a sort of hybrid
Russian vernacular. From long experience on the river, Captain Petersen
estimated its current at about five miles an hour above old Fort Yukon
for the short distance which he had ascended with the steamer; but
probably four from there to Nuklakayet; three and a half to Nulato; and
three below that until the influence of the low tides from Bering's
Sea is felt. Of course this rate of speed varies somewhat with the
season, but is the average during the period of navigation in July and
August. He expected to overtake me about the 15th of August somewhere
near Nulato, as he had orders to pull the St. Michael's off the gravel
bar where she was lying, the Alaska Commercial Company having bought
out all the effects of the rival concern after the latter had expended
between half a million and a million of dollars without any reasonable
remuneration for the outlay. This the captain thought would detain him
a week or ten days, and if I could get as far as Nulato, or Anvik, it
would save him towing the "barka" that far on its way to St. Michael's
or "the redoubt," as they all call it on the river. Thus we should be
doing each other a mutual favor. The "barka," however, had none of its
sails, except a jib, and this circumstance, coupled with the head winds
that we should be sure to encounter on the lower river at this reason,
reduced us to find our motive power still in the current. Provisions
were purchased in sufficient quantity to last as far as Nuklakayet,
where we could select from a much more varied stock.
Our dead reckoning, as checked by the astronomical observations,
showed the distance from the site of old Fort Selkirk to Fort Yukon
to be four hundred and ninety miles, and two-tenths, (490.2); and the
entire distance of the latter place from Crater Lake, at the head of
the river, nine hundred and eighty-nine (989) miles; the raft journey
having been twelve miles less. In running from Pyramid (Island) Harbor
of Chilkat Inlet, the last point we had left which had been determined
by astronomical instruments of precision, to Fort Yukon, the next such
point, a distance of over a thousand miles, Mr. Homan's dead reckoning,
unchecked the whole distance, was in error less than ten miles; and
from Fort Selkirk, determined by sextant and chronometer--the latter
regulated between the above two places--to Fort Yukon, the error was
less than six miles. At this point we connected our surveys with the
excellent one given to the lower river by Captain Raymond in 1869;
although we continued our own as far as the Aphoon, or northern, mouth
of the Yukon River.
When Russian America became Alaska, or to be precise, in 1867, that
date found the Russians established as traders only on the lower
river a considerable distance below the flat-lands, while in 1848 the
Hudson Bay Company had established Fort Yukon within their territory,
a port which they were still maintaining. Upon our accession, it was
determined to fix the position of Fort Yukon astronomically, and if it
should prove to be on Alaskan soil--west of the 141st meridian--the
Hudson Bay Company employes would be notified to vacate the premises.
This was done by Captain Raymond in 1869. In the course of this
occupation a good map of the Yukon River was made from its mouth to
Fort Yukon, which was published by the War Department, accompanied by
a report. With this it may be said that the results of the expedition
ceased, as that department of the government does not publish and sell
maps made under its direction, and they therefore are practically
deprived of circulation. When I asked Captain Petersen if he used maps
in navigating the river, he said that he seldom did, as there were no
good ones in existence for the permanent channels of the river, while
the temporary channels were so variable that his old maps were of
little service. He had never heard of the Raymond map being published,
and on being shown one, seemed astonished that so good a map was in
existence, and asked me to send him a copy, which I was unable to do,
as I could not procure one at the proper department in Washington.
The maps he had were those made by the Russians when they were in
possession of the country, which are still the best of such as can be
procured.
The Indians in and around old Fort Yukon are known to the traders as
the Fort Yukon Indians, which is probably as good a name as any, as
they are not entitled to be regarded as a distinct tribe (or even as
part of one), in the ordinary acceptation of the word. The country
of the flat-lands is not well stocked with game of the kind that
would support any great number of Indians at all seasons, and as the
river spreads over so wide an extent, the chances of catching fish
are proportionately decreased, and altogether the flat-lands would
be rejected by the natives for other locations. I was told by those
who ought to know, and whose assertions seem to be borne out by other
evidence, that there were no Indians who made this country their home
until Fort Yukon was established in 1848, an event which attracted the
usual number of Indians around the post who are always seen about a
frontier trading station, many of whom made it their home. They came
up the river, down the main stream, and down the great tributary, the
Rat or Porcupine River which empties itself near the fort, so that
the settlement was recruited by stragglers from several tribes, and
it was for this reason that I spoke of them as not being a distinct
tribe. The Indian who assumed the rôle of chief, Senati, as he is
called by the white people, a savage of more than ordinary authority
and determination, came from the lower ramparts where there exists a
village bearing his name, which he still visits. Since the abandonment
of the post by the Alaska Company, his force of character has done
much to hold together the handful of natives that still cling to the
old spot; but with his death and the desertion of the place by white
traders this part of the river will soon return to its former wildness.
When the Hudson Bay Company came upon the river at the point where they
built this fort, they felt safe from the encroachments of the Russians,
although trespassing upon Russian soil, as the Yukon was supposed to
flow northward, and, like the Mackenzie, to pour its waters into the
polar sea. Old maps may still be found bearing out this idea,[2] the
Colville being pressed into service as the conjectural continuation of
the Yukon into the Arctic portion of Alaska.
[2] As late as 1883, a fine globe bearing that date, costing some
hundreds of dollars, was received by the American Geographical Society
from a London firm, which still bears this error, corrected over twenty
years ago.
The 27th and 28th were occupied in taking observations to rate and
correct the chronometer, much of the first day being spent in company
with the officers of the boat, who recounted their interesting
adventures on the river and its adjacent regions, in which their lives
had been spent. I recall an episode of Mr. McQuestion's early life
which so well illustrates the extraordinary vigor of the _voyageurs_
of the Hudson Bay Company in the British north-west territory that
I shall briefly repeat it. His boyhood was spent in the northern
peninsula of Michigan and the states and territories to the westward,
until finally he found himself at old Fort Garry, then an important
post of the Hudson Bay Company. Here he was brought into constant
contact with the restless _voyageurs_, and from them he imbibed much
of their adventurous spirit, and was imbued with a longing to visit
the far north land of which they spoke. He heard of Athabasca as
other lads might hear of California and Mexico and Peru, while the
Mackenzie and Yukon resembled to his imagination some fabled El Dorado
or Aladdin's dream. He longed to see these lands for himself, but he
knew the hard work the _voyageurs_ were compelled to endure. He had
seen the bundles and bags and boxes of a hundred pounds that they were
to carry on their backs around rapids too swift to pole or "track,"
and over the many portages and exchanges on their long journeys. He
knew he was not equal to the work required, but with the enthusiasm of
youth he determined to make himself equal to it by a course of physical
training, and after several months presented himself to an agent of the
company as a full-fledged _voyageur_. To his delight he was accepted
and entered on their books at a monthly salary, that probably being the
least important part to him at the time. The first party which started
northward in the spring included young McQuestion in its number, the
most enthusiastic of all. Days wore on and much of his enthusiasm was
repressed by the hard experiences of the journey, but it was by no
means destroyed. In a few days the other _voyageurs_ began talking
of the great portage, where every thing, canoes included, had to be
carried on their backs around the swift rapids, and wishing that their
task, the hardest they had to encounter in the northern regions, was
well over. McQuestion rather regarded it in the light of variety, as
a break from the monotony of weary paddling over still and "tracking"
through swift water. At last the lower end of the great portage was
reached at a small cascade, and as the great canoe in which the young
_voyageur_ was paddling was nearly at the lower end of the line, he
could plainly see the indications ahead. The canoes came up and landed
at the little rocky ledge, their one hundred pound bundles were thrown
out on the bank, high and dry, and the canoe itself was dragged from
the water to make room for the next. McQuestion saw the chief of the
canoe throw a bundle on the first comer's back, and expected to see
him start off over the trail to the upper end of the portage, said to
be ten or twelve miles across, and running through a tanglewood with
all kinds of obstructions occurring the whole way. As the man did not
start off, however, McQuestion watched eagerly for the reason, and was
astonished to see the chief put a second bundle of a hundred pounds
upon the other for the packer to carry, a load under which he expected
to see the poor fellow stagger or fall. He did not fall, however, nor
even stagger, but wheeled in his tracks and started off at a good sharp
run, and disappeared over the hill. In a few minutes he reappeared on
the crest of another hill, still maintaining his rapid gait, and with
half a dozen others following him on the trail, with each carrying the
same weight, and proceeding at the same gait. His heart sank within
him, and as he climbed the ledge of rock he felt almost like a criminal
on the way to execution. He received his two bundles, started off, and
managed to keep up his gait over the crest of the nearest hill, when
he fell, spread out at full length over the first log he attempted to
cross. He returned to the factor in charge of the expedition, and a
compromise was made by which he paid to that functionary the amount
per month he was to have received in order to accompany the party as a
passenger. At one of the northern posts he obtained a situation more
to his liking, and thus drifted into the company's employ, finally
crossing over to the Yukon River, and transferring his allegiance to
the Alaska Company when it succeeded his old masters.
On the forenoon of the 20th, the Yukon continued her voyage up the
stream, having accomplished all the summer trading with the Fort Yukon
Indians the day previous. I was present at an afternoon parley with
them, and was greatly impressed at the patience exhibited and required
by traders among these savages; a patience such as not one shopman
in a thousand possesses, according to my experience, however great a
haggler he may be. McQuestion had learned the art of patience from his
old employers, probably the most successful bargainers with savages the
world has ever seen. Indian No. 1 put in an appearance with a miserable
lot of furs, and a more miserable story of poverty, the badness of the
winter for trapping, the scarcity of animals and the inferiority of
the pelts, his large family in need of support, his honesty with the
company in the past, and a score of other pleas, the upshot of which
was a request that he might be supplied with clothing and ammunition
for another year in return for the pelts at his feet. The trader
replies, setting a definite price in trading material for the amount
of skins before him, and the "dickering" begins. After half an hour
or an hour's talk of the most tiresome description, the discussion
ends in the Indian accepting the exact amount the trader originally
offered, or about one-tenth of his own demands. Indian No. 2, who has
heard every word of the conversation, then comes forward with the same
quality of furs and exactly the same story, the trade lasting exactly
the same time, and with exactly the same result; and so on with all the
others in turn. Even No. 12, of the dozen present, does not vary the
stereotyped proceedings any more than an actor's interpretation of a
part varies on the twelfth night of the piece. Then Indian No. 1 comes
forward again with a package of furs of a better quality than the first
he displayed, and solemnly affirms that these are the only ones he has
left, and that if the trader will not give him enough clothing for
himself and family, and enough ammunition to last through the winter
in return for them, they must all go naked and perhaps starve for want
of the means of procuring food. This story, with its continuation,
lasts about half as long as the first, but ends in the same way, as
the Indian's eloquence has about as much effect on the trader as it
would on the proverbial row of stumps. The farce is repeated by all the
Indians in turn, and is yet again repeated at least once before the
entire transaction is over, during all of which time the white trader
sits composedly on his stool, and gives a patient and unvarying answer
to each in his turn, under provocation that would have put Job in a
frenzy before the first circle was completed.
On the 29th of July we took an early departure, and about noon passed
an Indian village of five or six tents and ten or a dozen canoes, which
might have appeared uninhabited but for the dogs that surrounded the
tents, nearly a score to every one, proving that their owners were
either asleep or only temporarily absent. The dogs flocked down the
beach and up the bank, and emitted such a chorus of unearthly howls
that we were grateful to the current for hurrying us away. That day
we drifted 50.5 (geographical) miles in a trifle over thirteen hours,
showing but little diminution in the river's rate of speed. It was
an exceedingly hot blistering day on the river, almost unbearable,
and the heat, coupled with the clouds of mosquitoes, impelled the
doctor to remark that it was clear to the casual observer that we
were in the Arctic regions. About seven o'clock in the evening, the
thermometer marking 80° Fahrenheit in the shade, we saw "sun-dogs,"
or parhelia, very plainly marked on either side of the western sun, a
phenomenon I had so often observed in the Arctic winter and in Arctic
weather elsewhere, as to seem incongruous during such tropical heat. A
heavy rain shower came up about ten o'clock at night and continued at
intervals until late the next morning.
"It is an ill wind that blows no one any good," and if the gnats and
mosquitoes did keep us awake all night they allowed us to start two
hours earlier than usual, and in spite of a gale in the afternoon that
made it very difficult to steer well and to keep off the lee banks,
we camped reasonably early and had forty-four miles to our credit in
addition. This wind was very cold and disagreeable, with heavy black
clouds overhead; a most decided change in the weather since the day
before, but for the better, as the strong wind kept down the mosquitoes
and gave us all a good night's rest.
The 31st was uneventful, and in fact it was only in the casual
incidents of our voyage that we found any thing to interest us while
floating through this region, a flat desert clothed with spruce
trees, all of a uniform size, and monotonous in the extreme. We scored
forty-five geographical miles and retired at night in a rain shower,
which continued with such unabated fury next day that we remained
in camp. A stroll that evening disclosed the distal extremity of a
mastodon's femur on the gravel beach near camp, Mr. Homan finding a
tooth of the same animal near by. For many years the scattered bones
of this extinct animal have been found along the Yukon, showing that
this region was once its home. When at Fort Yukon an Indian brought the
tooth of a mastodon to a member of my party, and receiving something
for it, probably more than he expected, told the white man that the
entire skeleton was protruding from the banks of one of the islands,
about a day's journey up the river. Our limited time and transportation
forbade investigating it further. In a few years, I suppose, the bank
will be excavated by the undermining river, and the bones swept away
and scattered over many bars and beaches, for it is in such places that
the greatest numbers are found, while a complete skeleton _in situ_ is
a rarity.
In spite of slight showers and a general "bad outlook," we started
early next morning, and were very soon driven into a slough on the
left (southern) bank by a strong north-west wind. Through this spot
the current was so stagnant that we were over two hours in making a
little less than two miles. At one time the head wind threatened to
bring us completely to a standstill, so slight was our motive power.
Nor was this our only episode of the same character. Several times the
exasperating wind played us this trick, and when we camped for the
night after twelve hours spent on the water, we could only reckon
twenty-six miles to our credit. The event thoroughly established the
fact that the central channels of the many which penetrate this flat
district contain the swiftest currents, while along the main banks
there are numerous water-ways open at both ends with almost stagnant
water in them. About three in the afternoon we passed a double log
house on the right bank with two or three small log _caches_ mounted
high in the air on the corner posts, and two graves, all of which
seemed new in construction, although the place was entirely deserted.
Indian signs of all kinds now began to appear as we approached the
lower ramparts, although no Indians were seen. By noon the blue
hills of the ramparts were seen to our left, and by the middle of
the afternoon, we could make out individual trees upon them, and at
half-past seven o'clock we camped on the last island in the great group
of from two to ten thousand through which we had been threading our
way so long, with the upper gates of the lower ramparts in full sight,
about a mile or two distant.