1.00 p. m. Kaltag in view--a small modern village on right bank, less
than half the size of Nulato; a nearly compact row of log and plank
houses. Nothing of any special interest seen from distance, and but
little after landing. The old village used to be somewhat higher up the
river.
There is an old abandoned site also just opposite the present Kaltag.
Another site, "Klenkakaiuh," is, I am told, in the Kaiuh slough south
of Kaltag, in a straight line about 10 miles, but no one there; and
several other old villages in that region along that slough--same
Indians as those of Kaltag. All of Kaltag go there on occasions, but do
not live there permanently any more.
[Illustration: BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY FORTY-SIXTH ANNUAL REPORT
PLATE 1
_a_, "Old Minto" on the Tanana. Indian village. (A. H., 1926)
_b_, Present Nulato and its cemetery (on hill to right of village) from
some distance up the river. (A. H., 1926)
_c_, The Greyling River site, right bank, 22 miles above Anvik; site
and graveyard (male skeleton) from top of knoll. (A. H., 1926)]
[Illustration: BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY FORTY-SIXTH ANNUAL REPORT
PLATE 2
_a_, View on the Yukon from above Kaltag. (A. H., 1926)
_b_, Indian burial ground, Middle Yukon. (A. H., 1926)
_c_, Anvik, from the mission. (A. H., 1926)]
At Kaltag Eskimoid features already predominate and some of those seen
are fully like Eskimo.
There is a tradition of an Asiatic (Chukchee) attempt at Kaltag once.
Later in the afternoon photograph some natives and go with Mr. Müller,
the storekeeper, and Mr. McLeod, the intelligent local teacher, on the
latter's boat, "hunting" along the banks up the stream. Meet an old
Indian (Eskimo type) paddling a birch-bark canoe, said to be the only
canoe of that sort now on the Yukon. About three-fourths of a mile
above the village see caved bank and find a skull and bones--"split"
old burial of a woman.
A canoe coming, so we all go farther up the beach, pretending to
examine stones. It is only the boy who brought me, however, going home
with some planks, and he grins knowingly.
After that we locate three exposed coffins, two undisturbed and covered
with sod. These two, for fear of irritating the natives, are left.
But the third is wrapped only in birch bark. It was a powerful woman.
With her a bone tool and a white man's spoon. With the burial that had
tumbled out of the bank there were large blue and gray beads and three
iron bracelets--reserved by the teacher.
I gather all the larger bones and we put them temporarily in a piece
of canvas. It is hard to collect all--the men are apprehensive--it
might be dangerous for them if detected. Everything smoothed as much as
possible, and we go across the river to examine two fish nets belonging
to the trader. One of these is found empty; but the other contains
five large king salmon, 15 to 20 pounds each, three drowned, two
still alive. The latter are hooked, hoisted to the edge of the boat,
killed with a club, and, full of blood, thrown into the boat--great,
stout, fine fish. To secrete our other findings from the natives the
storekeeper gets a large bundle of grass and ties it to my package. We
shall be bringing "medicine."
Arrive home, only to learn that against our information the river
boat has left Tanana on schedule time, is now above Koyukuk, and is
expected to arrive at Kaltag before 8 p. m. Hurriedly pack, a few more
photographs, supper, and the smoke of the steamer begins to be visible.
In a little while she is at the bank, my boxes are brought down, a
greeting with old friends on the boat--the same boat (_Jacobs_) on
which I went from Nenana to Tanana--and we start off for Anvik.
Mr. Müller, the trader at Kaltag, German by birth, has a young, fairly
educated Eskimo wife, a good cook, housekeeper, and mother of one
child. The child is an interesting white-Eskimo blend.
In his store Mr. Müller showed me a good-sized heavy bowl of red stone
with a figure seated in a characteristic way near one end. The specimen
was said to have come from an old site on the Kaiuh and is of the
same type as that at the museum in Juneau and the two in the east, one
at the Museum of the American Indian, New York, and the other at the
University Museum, Philadelphia. Regrettably Mr. Müller would not part
with the specimen. (See also p. 34.)
The natives of Kaltag, so far as seen, are more Eskimoid than those of
any of the other settlements farther up the river.
Fine evening; sit with a passenger going to Nome, until late. Learn
that the boat to St. Michael is waiting for this boat and will go right
on--not suitable for my work. Also we are to stop but a few minutes at
Anvik, where I am to meet Doctor Chapman, the missionary.
Sunday, June 27. About 5 a. m. arrive in the pretty cove of Anvik.
Received on the bank by Doctor Chapman, the head of the local
Episcopalian mission and school, and also the Anvik postmaster. The
doctor for the present is alone, his wife and daughter having gone
to Fairbanks, and so he is also the cook and everything. In a few
minutes, with the help of some native boys, I am with my boxes in
Doctor Chapman's house, and after the boat has left and the necessities
connected with what she left attended to we have breakfast. I am
soon made to feel as much as possible "at home," and we have a long
conversation. Then see a number of chronic patients and incurables;
attend a bit lengthy service in Doctor Chapman's near-by little church;
have a lunch with the ladies at the school; visit the hill graveyard.
They have reburied all the older remains and there is nothing left.
Attend an afternoon service and give a talk to the congregation of
about half a dozen whites and two dozen more or less Eskimoid Indians
on the Indians and our endeavors; and then do some writing, ending the
day by going out for about a mile and a half along the banks of the
Anvik River, looking in vain for signs of something older, human or
animal. (Pl. 2, _c_.)
There are many and bad gnats here just now--how bad I only learned
later, when I found my whole body covered with patches of their bites;
and also many mosquitoes, which proved particularly obnoxious during
the lunch. As the doctor is alone, the three excellent white ladies of
the school, matron and teachers, invited us, as already mentioned, to
lunch with them. We had vegetable soup, a bit of cheese, two crackers
each, a piece of cake, and tea. But I chose an outlandish chair the
seat of which was made of strips of hide with spaces between; and from
the beginning of the lunch to its end there was a struggle between the
proprieties of the occasion and the mosquitoes that kept on biting me
through the spaces in the seat. Chairs of this type, and I finally told
that to the ladies to explain my seeming restlessness during the meal,
should be outlawed in Alaska.