COLT
Shortly after we started, one of the dogs, called Whitey, lay down and
refused to work. Poor old Whitey! He had given all there was in him
and had worn himself out on the hard travelling from Shipwreck Camp to
Wrangell Island and again across Long Strait to Siberia. I unharnessed
him, finally, and put him on the sledge. We now had only three dogs
left to pull the sledge and our progress was not very fast.
About two o’clock in the afternoon we came upon two more arangas. The
native who lived in one of them proved to be a deer man who had hurt
himself some time before and was just beginning to feel better. He had
seven good dogs which excited my interest. I made signs to show him
that we had had seven dogs but had lost all but four, of which one was
already too weak to walk, that we were travelling all the way down to
East Cape, which I indicated on the chart, and that I wanted some dogs.
He was an intelligent man and understood what I was after. He and his
household brought out tea, which was very refreshing and invigorating,
together with frozen deer meat and walrus meat; Kataktovick ate the
walrus meat and I the deer meat. Our host made clear to me that we
could not reach another aranga before nightfall and invited us to stop
with him. We accepted gladly.
The deer man was loath to part with any of his dogs. Finally he said he
would not decide that night but would let me know in the morning. We
were up with the first crack of dawn and had a breakfast of pemmican,
frozen deer meat and tea; then I reopened the subject of the dogs. The
Eskimo said that he would not sell me a dog but would let me take one
if I would send it back from East Cape. I gave him a razor and promised
to do so. Then he showed me his rifle, which was a Remington, and some
cartridges, making signs to ask me if I had any cartridges to pay him
for the use of the dog. I had no Remington cartridges, but took out the
chart and showed him that after reaching East Cape I was going across
to Nome and would send him some cartridges from there. He knew about
Nome; evidently the trading motor-boats from Nome had been up along the
Siberian coast. The dog, as I understood, I could send back from East
Cape by travellers bound west, though the distance was at least three
hundred miles as the crow flies. He told me that there was a white man
at Koliuchin Bay and that Mr. Caraieff, who was a brother of the one I
had met at Cape North, had a fur-trading station at East Cape.
The deer man was an honorable man as well as a trustful one. With the
exception of a razor and a pickaxe which I gave him before we left, he
received nothing but a promise made him in sign language, yet he let us
have one of his best dogs. I asked the native who lived in the other
aranga if he would not go with us as far as Koliuchin Bay. He replied
that he could not leave his family for so long a journey, because they
would probably get nothing to eat. I was sorry for this, but I had
been so warmly welcomed here that I wanted to show my appreciation, so
I gave him a tin of oil to use with the Primus stove that he had, for
which he had had no oil for a long time.
I tried to write down the name of the native to whom I owed the
cartridges but it defied spelling; even the experts in phonetic
spelling would, I think, have had trouble with it. Later on, however,
when I reached Koliuchin Bay I told Mr. Olsen, the American trader
whom I found there, about the arrangement I had made and he easily
identified the man. I am glad to say that I have every reason to
believe that the cartridges which I sent him when I finally reached
Alaska arrived safely.
With our new dog now harnessed to the sledge and Whitey still
a passenger, we got away by the middle of the forenoon and by
mid-afternoon reached another aranga, where we found two women. I tried
to make them understand that I wanted to see the man of the house
and buy a dog from him; there were several pretty good dogs running
around outside the aranga. The women were not very talkative but they
finally managed to make me understand that the men were away, gathering
driftwood. We made ourselves some tea and waited. Kataktovick went into
the aranga and presently returned to tell me that the women had some
flour and were willing to give us some. I hardly knew what we could do
with it and said so.
Kataktovick replied, “Me make flapjacks.”
He got some of the flour and mixed it with melted snow. Then he greased
the cover of the tea boiler with walrus blubber, placed it over the
Primus stove and cooked half a dozen flapjacks. They proved to be
very good, and from that time on, whenever we got a chance, we had
flapjacks; unfortunately chances like this were few and far between.
The day was fine and clear and we had a good view of the hinterland,
which, I found, resembled the coast of Grant Land, where I had been on
my voyages with Peary in the _Roosevelt_.
Presently the men returned, an old man and his son. I asked him for
a dog. He replied—we both, of course, talked in the Esperanto of
signs—that he had only seven and did not care to part with any. I
had a pair of binoculars which I offered him but could not tempt him,
though he was very polite in his refusal to trade. I had with me a new
forty-five calibre Colt revolver, with eighty-three cartridges left,
which I had used to shoot seal. The boy was standing around while we
were carrying on our conversation. I handed him the loaded revolver and
made signs to him to try a shot with it. About thirty yards away was
a stick, standing up in the snow. The boy fired at it and cut it in
two the first shot. He showed his pride and satisfaction plainly and
required little urging to try a shot at another stick a little farther
away. This time he missed; with the next shot, however, he cut this
stick in two. It was good shooting, especially as I do not think he had
ever seen a revolver before.
Turning to the boy, I took a dog with one hand and the revolver with
the other and made signs that if I could have the dog, the revolver was
his. The old man demurred, but the boy took him off where they could
talk the matter over and presently the old man came back and signified
that he would agree to the bargain. Kataktovick looked over the dog he
offered us and we agreed that it was not much good, so I pointed to a
better dog and indicated that he was my choice. The old man shook his
head but offered to let me have the dog if I would add the binoculars
to the revolver. I in turn shook my head, took the revolver and the
cartridges from the boy and prepared to leave. At that the old man gave
in and handed over the dog and a harness; so I gave the revolver and
the cartridges back to the boy, hitched up the dog and we were soon on
our way again. The dog was a strong, little, white fellow, and worked
well. Our old Whitey was well enough now to trot along behind the
sledge, but could do no work yet. Including Whitey we now had six dogs.
It was about three o’clock when we left the old man’s aranga. About
sunset, which now came at seven o’clock, we met a party of Chukches,
with three teams of dogs, bound westward towards Cape North. We stopped
for a few minutes’ conversation and I found that they had come from
Cape Onman at the mouth of Koliuchin Bay. They told me that they would
reach the aranga which we had last left by the time it was dark, which
would be in about an hour and a half. It had taken us four hours to
cover the distance but we were walking whereas the Siberians had from
sixteen to twenty-two dogs to each team and could therefore ride on the
sledges and travel at good speed.
Shortly after we passed these men, we stopped and built our igloo for
the night. We debated how we should manage about the two new dogs that
we had acquired that day, whether we should tether them outside or take
them into the igloo with us. I did not feel like taking any chances on
leaving them outside so we brought them in, with their harness still
on. When we lay down to sleep we tied their traces together and lay on
the traces.
We had had a long and active day and soon fell fast asleep. The
temperature outside was about fifty below zero. Sometime during the
night I woke up, feeling pretty cold. There was a big hole in the side
of the igloo. The dogs had worked their way out of the harness and got
away. We had some tea and as soon as it became light enough I sent
Kataktovick back to the aranga where we had obtained the last dog,
which we called Colt; I thought it likely that the other dog would stop
there, too. I told Kataktovick to get the man to harness up his sledge
and ride back with him to save time. Several hours later Kataktovick
came back with Colt and his late owner and we put Colt into our team
again. The other dog, however, they had not seen; evidently he had
gone right on. I gave the man a tin of pemmican for his trouble and we
went on our way again.
It was long after sunset when we built our igloo for the night. I
determined that Colt should not get away again, so we tied his mouth
to prevent him from chewing his harness and took him into the igloo
with us. In some way, however, he chewed himself free, broke out of the
igloo and escaped. The distance was now too great to send back for him
and I gave up all hope of ever seeing him again.
With our dogs again reduced to four, two of which were of little use,
we got away at five o’clock the next morning. Early in the afternoon
we came upon an old man and a boy, collecting big logs of driftwood. I
asked the old man what he was going to do with the logs, but could not
understand his reply. Perhaps he planned to build a house or a boat.
He had a tent in which he was living and I gathered he was going to
move eastward that afternoon. We made a fire of driftwood and had some
tea and then went on. Kataktovick told me that he understood from the
old man that he would probably overtake us later on and give us a lift
with his sledge. Sure enough, a couple of hours before sunset, he came
up with us and invited us to ride. The snow was light and powdery and
I had been wearing my snowshoes all day. The dogs, too, had made hard
going of it on account of the condition of the snow. I accepted the
old man’s invitation, therefore, to ride on the sledge but after about
ten minutes found it so cold sitting still that I got off, resumed my
snowshoes and walked.
When it was nearly dark we stopped and set up the old man’s big tent.
The northwest wind was growing stronger and the snow was drifting. I
got the Primus stove going and made tea for all four of us and we all
had pemmican. The old man and his son had nothing much of their own to
eat.
We were just finishing our supper when the men with the three
dog-teams, whom we had passed three days before, came up; they had
been to Cape North and were now returning. We filled the Primus stove
again, made them some tea and gave them some pemmican to eat. After
a while they informed me that they had the white dog Colt that had
got away from us. The old man had sent him back by them. I was taken
completely by surprise and to say that I was glad to see him would be
putting it mildly. Nothing could have exceeded that old man’s honesty
and generosity; once he had gone to the trouble of bringing Colt back
himself, and now he had sent him back. It was simply one of the many
instances of fine humanity which I met with among these Chukches. All
honor and gratitude to them!
The new arrivals and ourselves sat in the tent and attempted
conversation. They were sociable and friendly, like all the others whom
we met, but Kataktovick, as I afterwards learned, never quite succeeded
in conquering his misgivings. It was difficult to make them understand
and sometimes I would get excited and talk in loud and emphatic tones.
This would arouse Kataktovick’s fears and he would say: “You must not
talk that way.” He was afraid they would misunderstand my earnestness
and take offense. The same thing had happened before and Kataktovick
was always afraid of the consequences.
On the fourteenth we had a high westerly gale. The men with the three
dog teams got away before we did. They said our dogs were slow and they
were in a hurry. I tried to buy a dog from them with my binoculars but
could not tempt them.
Leaving the old man and his son in their big tent we left early in the
morning, with the high wind at our backs, and made fairly good going
all day. At noon we reached an aranga and had some tea. Then we went
on again and about five o’clock came to another aranga. Near by was an
empty tent. We entered and in a few minutes an old man came in from
the aranga and made signs that he would make us some tea if we wanted
it. He went back to the aranga and presently returned with a brand new
copper kettle, holding about two gallons. He said we could use it and
that he would get the ice to fill it if we would provide the fire and
the tea. I saw that it was going to take some time to make tea, so we
went along, but as the old man seemed to be pretty badly off I gave him
some pemmican and tea tablets.
At dark we built our igloo. I took Colt inside with us and tied his
mouth, taking a half hitch on the rope so that he could not chew. Then
I put three or four turns of the rope criss-cross on the harness so
that he could not extricate himself, and tied the rope to myself. The
result was that with his continuous restlessness I got no sleep all
night. It was the last time I tried that device; after that I simply
tethered him with the rest of the dogs.