We were all cold, so built a fire. Caught some grayling
then. Ran till 10 o'clock. Camp on the tundra. Wet and
cold, but had plenty of wood near by, so had good fires.
"LaPierre House, an old trading-post, now abandoned, must be
not far ahead. That's where the land trail comes in from
Fort McPherson, according to the stories. We don't believe
anything we hear any more, as all the tales have been
unreliable and confusing. Must have made thirty miles to-day
before we camped.
"_Monday, July 28th._--Steady grind down the Bell, which now
is crooked and sluggish. At 2.15 in the afternoon found a
cabin, but it was not LaPierre House. Found many names on
this cabin. Also statement, 'It is ten miles to LaPierre
House.' One man here left statement that he was bound for
Fairbanks in Alaska. Another man and his wife passed in an
earlier year, 'Eleven days out from McPherson in canoes.'
This party had four Indian boys, who expected to take nine
days to get back to McPherson. This man must have gone on
down the Bell River alone.
"Did five hours before lunch, and six after, and still no
LaPierre House. Traveled until 10.15 and stopped to cook.
Rigged a light outrigger for our canoe for night travel,
which might be dangerous. We've got to travel day and night,
and take turns steering. Don't think we got over three and a
half to four miles an hour, it may be three miles only, but
think we did thirty-five miles to-day. No game and no fish
but a few grayling in the morning. We feel a little bit
glum. We can't tell where we are. Rigged a short sail, and
it helped us a little bit. Mosquitoes not quite so bad.
Making slower time than we hoped.
"_Tuesday, July 29th._--Tried to sleep in boat, and didn't
do very well. I steered part of the night, and Uncle Dick
part of the time. At 7 A.M. made LaPierre House. It is
eighty miles from the summit at least, and that is fully
twice as far as we were told that it was! Some said it was
only thirty miles beyond the summit. Saw signs where raft
had been built--maybe some Indians coming down-stream for
their winter quarters. Heard a man started across McPherson
to LaPierre House on the land trail with two dogs. Too much
plunder, and he nearly died. Don't know where he is now.
Rain and cold all day.
"Ate at midnight. We take turns paddling the best we can,
but John and Jesse get pretty tired. We let them sleep more.
Weather dismal and cold. It is hard for two to sleep in our
canoe and two to run it at night. Have been wet and cold a
good deal.
"_Wednesday, July 30th._--Breakfast in rain. Built a big
fire. We slept a little where we could be warm. Off at
12.50. Found a big river coming in from the left, and knew
that it must be the Porcupine. Struck it about 2 o'clock. A
big wind coming up-stream. At first we thought the Porcupine
was running to the left. Of course it had to run to the
right. Found the wind hard to buck with the canoe, so that
we stood still sometimes. At 6.30 went ashore, built a log
fire, and dried our clothes and beds. Everything very wet.
John and Jesse very tired and shivering. Both seem pretty
near exhausted. Wind becoming more gusty. Fixed our canoe,
which was leaking a little. We don't know just how far it is
from here to the Porcupine. Jesse killed a beaver. We boiled
the tail and ate it, and it was good. Pushed on a little
farther in the dark.
"_Thursday, July 31st._--Summer is going awfully fast. Ran
in for breakfast on a stony ledge. Think we are only going
about two miles an hour. After breakfast tried to sail, and
think we ran ten or twelve miles easier. Had to paddle then.
The reaches of this river are long and the current is slow.
The man who calls the Porcupine and the Bell 'rapid mountain
streams' doesn't know what he is talking about, for neither
is rapid. Passed the mouth of the Eagle River early in the
day. Landed late at the mouth of the Driftwood River, as it
is marked on the government map. Found an Indian here with
one canoe. He has his wife and two children and seven dogs
here. One strange dog has come into his camp. It howls a
great deal and is lost. We don't know whose it is or where
it came from.
"These Indians are starving, and, little as we have, we have
to give them something. They wanted some flour and fat, and
we shared almost our last. They have nets set and are
waiting for the salmon to run. The Indian has only caught
one salmon, and he said if they did not come pretty soon his
people would die. They conclude to go on farther down the
stream with us. He says he can take everything he has in
that little canoe. They are wonders with boats.
"We all hustle now, because starvation threatens every one
in our party. Even rabbits are scarce. No ptarmigan, no
ducks, no fish. The river is big and the wind affects the
down-stream speed.
"The Indian keeps along with us. His canoe has about an inch
and a half free-board, and is loaded down with children,
dogs, nets, and so forth. Glad to have the Indian with us,
because he knows something of the country. He says Fish
River, the next stream below, is half-way to Old Crow. This
is an old trading-post which gets supplies from the Yukon,
and we will feel safe if we can get there.
"Our new Indian is named Andrew. He can talk a little. He
says the land portage from Fort McPherson to Fort LaPierre
is lined with cast-off stuff that people have tried to carry
and couldn't. It is a starving country and a starving march.
So is this a starving journey by water. When we went ashore
it was in a rousing gale of wind. Uncle Dick baked some
bannocks in our old way, leaning the frying-pan against a
stick driven down before the fire. We are so tired that
when we don't have to work we just fall asleep wherever we
are. We always have some one awake to watch things and to
tell the others when to wake up. We have been wet a great
deal of the time from rain and waves. Dried our bedding this
time, once more. Not much excitement and plenty of hard
work. I don't know whether any of us would come across here
again or not. Probably not.
"After a long wait the wind let up, and we started in the
late evening for the run to Old Crow, which we are anxious
to see. Head winds. Hard paddling. Kept on into the night,
but met an awful storm. Wind was almost a tornado, and for a
wonder snow fell in sheets. Our canoe got turned around two
or three times in the night, and we wouldn't know which way
to go, for the wind came up-stream and every other way. We
nearly swamped. Managed to get ashore, drenched to the skin
and very cold. It looks like winter. Andrew's children are
crying a great deal now. We haven't much to eat. It was
about the worst night we ever had. We pushed on down as
fast as we could as soon as we got warm enough to work.
Reached Old Crow trading-post 8 A.M., after the worst night
I ever spent.
"_Saturday, August 2d._--What luck! Old Crow post is
deserted--no one here at all--not even a native hanging
around! Uncle Dick thought it was right to break open a
window and go in. There was a stove, so we made a fire. The
trader had left his stock here. Of course it was burglary to
open the store. If an Indian did it they probably would
follow him a thousand miles and punish him. We left a note
telling them who we were and what we had taken--another
blanket or so, some pairs of mittens, and a little clothing
for the Indian children, who were almost frozen. The trader
lives at Fort Yukon, and we will pay him there.
"Andrew says the next stop is going to be at Rampart House,
sixty miles down the river. We have taken about fourteen
hours to make the last thirty-five miles, as near as we can
tell. We are all in bad shape. Getting a little weak.
"The trader's goods have been damaged by water. This wet
snow fell more than a foot deep over everything, and the
roof has leaked. Well, we can't stay here long, and we'll
have to travel day and night the best we can. Any accident
now would be very bad for everybody.
"John and Jesse paddle all they can. We all get very cold,
as it seems almost like winter. Stopped to get warm and eat.
Uncle Dick says plenty of tea won't hurt us if we work. We
take turns fair as we know how, the ones paddling who can
stay awake.
"Well, we are nearer to being safe. By traveling all the
time, fifteen and a half hours from Old Crow, we made
Rampart House--not bad time if the distance is correct.
Weather cold. Snow threatening again.
"_Sunday, August 3d._--At Rampart House. One week from the
summit. Two weeks from the mouth of the Rat. Rampart House
looks mighty good to us all. Here there is a Hudson's Bay
post with some goods in stock and a young Englishman running
it. Natives almost starving. No fish yet. The men are just
starting out for caribou, which are now reported thirty
miles north of here. Not much goods left in the
trading-post. Our reception here very chilly. No one seems
to care whether we live or not, and sometimes we have been
so tired we hardly did ourselves.
"The trader tells us it is 240 miles from here to the Yukon,
and it seems a long way. At least we can get warm and dry
here.
"Next day. We slept eighteen hours out of twenty-four.
Weather warming up. Hunters not back, but one Indian caught
a king salmon in a net, so the village is more cheerful.
Everybody shared the salmon, which was a large one, fifty
pounds. These people are Loucheux. Sometimes squaw-men live
in here at Rampart House. More dogs here than I ever saw.
One ate my moccasins last night--the ones that I had extra
soles on. I wish he hadn't done it, because I needed them.
"This is an important post in the North. It is old and well
known, and it has special interest because it is directly on
the International Boundary-line. There is a monument here
which the American surveyors put up not long ago. They were
in here quite a while, but their work of marking out the
International Boundary between Alaska and the Dominion of
Canada is now done.
[Illustration: HUSKY DOG--RAMPART HOUSE]
"All of us boys got gay and went over on the other side of
the Boundary and took off our hats and gave three cheers for
America. We were glad we were on American soil once more. We
feel now as if we were getting out of the fur-trading
country. Am not sorry. I don't like the country or the
people in it very much. Everything seems so shiftless.
Still, they manage to get on. I suppose if I lived up here a
hundred years things might look different.
"_Monday, August 4th._--Breakfast 10.30. We've got some
supplies here. Nothing much to boast of. Fixed up our boat
again for the long run for home. We feel pretty safe now.
Left Andrew at Old Crow, but saw some people at Rampart who
knew about him and other travelers who are back of us on the
Porcupine. We hope they will all get out. Winter will come
any time now. Left at 4.30 in the afternoon. Ran two hours
and had tea. River rising very fast, and current swift, so
that we thought we made five or six miles an hour at least.
Ran two and a half hours, some of us paddling, and thought
we made thirty miles. We are trying to use this rise in the
river all we can. Camped on a stony beach. Sand is very wet
and cold for a bed, but we cut some willows and did fairly
well. Not very cold.
"_Tuesday, August 5th._--Struck an Indian camp and traded
tea for some fresh moose meat, which we were mighty glad to
get. I am like John--I never want to see a rabbit again.
"To-day passed a boat tracking up-stream for Rampart. A man
and dog were pulling. They had a sail set to help, and the
steersman was poling and paddling the best he could to help.
Even so, it was a slow way to get up-stream. We felt sorry
for them when we left them. Later in the day met still
another boat, two Indians tracking freight up to Rampart
House. They say sometimes freight is carried up this river
with a powerboat. These Indians say we've come about a
hundred miles from Rampart, and that in about twenty miles
we will be half-way to the mouth of the river. Wish it were
not so far.
"_Wednesday, August 6th._--This is hard work. We rested and
paddled and slept and paddled. Too much wind, and we had to
quit toward evening. When the wind lulled we started again.
Much rain and dark weather. Water very fast, probably six to
seven miles an hour. We eat at least four times a day, so as
to keep strong as possible. Considerable wind now, and fall
seems coming. Whenever the sun comes out and we can lie down
in the sun, we do, so as to keep warm while we sleep. Don't
know how far it is to Yukon, but have been making good time.
"_Thursday, August 7th._--Head winds again, but sun bright
and warm. Spent considerable time ashore, resting, as we
were about played out, and we thought that we might now be
safe in a little delay. Got off late in the afternoon, and
did well. Uncle Dick says the Yukon can't be more than fifty
to seventy-five miles ahead. Camped late in a bunch of
spruce, and slept until 2 o'clock in the morning. When we
began to run we saw signs of a salmon fishery such as we
have in Alaska. There is a man here named Martin, and his
squaw and children all camped on the beach. He says it is
only thirty-five miles to the Yukon, and that we can do it
in six or seven hours. Hurrah!
"_Friday, August 8th._--We can still paddle, but are not
very strong, any of us. Uncle Dick is cheerful. He never has
been out of sorts. We boys have been pretty tired, and
sometimes Jesse has felt almost like crying, he was so
played out; but we have all done the best we could to keep a
stiff upper lip. Hope Uncle Dick will think we have done all
right. Just the same, we are glad we are coming out of the
worst of this trip. It has been worse than we thought.
"Passed two Indian camps in late evening. Then they said we
were within three hours of Yukon. Entered the mouth of a
white-stained slough which meant different waters from those
of the Porcupine. We feel that we are now in the Yukon
country--and that's _our_ country, because the Yukon and
Alaska are one!
"Ten P.M. Hurrah! Hurrah! At Fort Yukon! Here is the
American flag flying from the Anglican mission-house! We are
crazy with joy, all of us boys, and Uncle Dick smiles all
the time. We are safe now, because they say there'll be
several boats up-stream yet this fall. Uncle Dick says
there'll be no more danger, and he now begins to tell us
that we have been through worse dangers than maybe we
thought of. I suppose it was a pretty rough journey.
Certainly we all got awfully tired. We are thin as snakes,
all four of us.
"There is an Indian village below here, and a government
school for Indian boys, besides the Anglican mission-house
and church. It certainly does seem more civilized. This is
our own country.
"And this is the Yukon that runs between the banks here--our
own old Yukon! I love it better than the Mackenzie. For a
while at least we will be under our flag, and not any other.
All tired. Next we'd better go to bed. However, made camp
near a road-house, almost a mile from the Indian village.
Some whites live here who seem tough and noisy. Some liquor
here with them, for they seem to be shouting and singing.
"Although we have been on American soil or American water
since we left Rampart House on the Porcupine, this seems to
us like the first time we have really been in our own
country. Good night! Wish we were all home at Valdez with
our people."
XIV
AT FORT YUKON
It was a ragged and dirty party of travelers, to be sure, who lay
in the litter of the dooryard of the road-house, wrapped in their
blankets, and sleeping late in spite of the warm morning sun which
shone into their faces. They were exhausted by the long, trying, and
hard work of their dangerous journey, and, once they felt safe, had
fallen into the half-stupor which follows such fatigue. Therefore
they did not at first know of the presence of the dignified and
well-dressed man who stood hanging over the gate of the road-house,
looking at the sleepers as they lay in the yard, rolled up in their
blankets. Uncle Dick, always alert, was first awake, and sat up in his
blankets.
"Good morning, sir," said he to the stranger.
"Good morning, sir," replied the other, in turn. "Excuse me, but I've
been asked to look for the party of Mr. Richard McIntyre, himself and
three young boys, who are reported to be lost somewhere between here
and the mouth of the Mackenzie River. The relatives have sent in word
by cable, and naturally it has come into my hands."
"I beg your pardon, sir," said Uncle Dick, sitting still, half-clad in
his blankets, "but, although you may not suppose it, I am Mr.
McIntyre, and these are the young men referred to, no doubt. You have
word from outside?"
"From Mrs. Vernon Wilcox, of Valdez, and from Mrs. Henry D. Hardy, of
the same city; I have the message here. It came down from Circle City
on the last boat."
"And you, sir? I beg your pardon--"
"I am the archdeacon of the Anglican Church in this district," replied
the other, "and my name is Hudson. I have come this morning to ask you
to our house to live during your stay here. There will be no boat out
for some days as yet." Still he looked half-doubtfully at the man whom
he addressed, as though possibly he might be some impostor, so strange
did he appear, unshaven, with long hair, and in garments which barely
clung together.
Uncle Dick laughed at this, and explained that he did not blame any
one for suspecting himself and his party of anything in the world.
Then he called to his young companions, and the archdeacon himself
smiled when he saw the four standing, the fresher for the pails of
water which they threw over one another, in the front yard.
"I am a traveler myself," said he, "and have mushed dogs many thousand
miles in this northern country. So I know what hard travel is, winter
and summer. Come with me, if you please."
So they accompanied him to his home, the only civilized place, as
Uncle Dick was disposed to say, in all the settlement thereabouts.
Here the boys of the party had the best meal they had known for many a
day, with real meat and gravy and actual bread and butter, such as
they had been used to at home. Although, of course, they displayed no
curiosity in their host's house, they were well pleased enough, as
they later saw signs of comfort and good taste all about them.
"Now," said the archdeacon, after they had breakfasted, "I know how
you feel about your clothes. Happily, I have some such clothing
provided for our own needs here. Although the things will not be in
the latest fashion, perhaps we can fix you up better than you now are.
"As for you," he said to Uncle Dick, "you are welcome to a suit of my
own clothing if it will serve you. We are not dissimilar in build, I
believe. Come with me and let us see what we can do for you."
In half an hour the four emerged from another room in the house, each
with a complete new outfit, and to each of them it seemed, in the
circumstances, that they were especially well-dressed.
"Well," said Uncle Dick, "you certainly are Good Samaritans in your
church here in the North. I shall not offend you by offering pay for
what you have done for us, but we have some boats here, with a canoe
and a few odds and ends of that sort, which we shall be most happy to
leave with you when we go out."
"I thank you very much for that," said the reverend gentleman. "All
such things are very useful to us indeed. And I shall be glad to have
them, provided that you are quite finished with their use.
"And now will you tell me of your trip?" he resumed. "It was over the
old Klondike trail of twenty years ago--a dangerous trip for you to
take with just boys like these."
"Well, you see," said Uncle Dick, with a look of pride on his face,
"these are not just ordinary boys. They are an Alaskan product,
'young Alaskans,' all three of them, and more used to out of doors
than are most young folk of their age. They are good travelers
already, better than many a man; they have made the Peace River and
the Saskatchewan, have run the Big Rapids of the Columbia, and have
killed their Kadiak bear in southwest Alaska. I knew what they were or
I never would have taken on this trip in their company. I fancy"--and
he smiled--"that they did better than many a tenderfoot who came over
the Rat Portage twenty years ago."
"No doubt, no doubt!" replied the archdeacon. "I join you in your
pride that you are all Americans, like myself. I, too, am something of
an explorer, as I may say modestly. I am just back from the climbing
of Denali, and I had a boy with me in that ascent--an Indian boy he
was!"
"Denali!" exclaimed Uncle Dick, excitedly. "You mean Mount McKinley--I
know the Indian name."
The older man nodded with gravity. "Yes," said he. "We climbed it for
the first time--the first scientific time. Of course you know about
the false claims that have been made?"
Uncle Dick rose and grasped him by the hand warmly. "Sir," said he,
"you are a great man, even had you never lived so long and useful a
life here in your work. I am glad that the Church and not the traders
put the first flag on top of the highest mountain on this continent. I
congratulate you, and I am proud that my young friends can meet you
here."
"It was not so difficult," said the reverend gentleman, modestly, once
more. "Only, be sure, it actually was done. Be sure also that it was a
boy--an Indian boy--who first set foot upon the top of Mount Denali. I
held back when we got to the very summit, thinking it appropriate that
a native of the people who owned this land before we came should be
the first to set foot upon its highest summit."
"Fine!" said Uncle Dick. "That's what I call sportsmanship, and I want
you boys to remember it. That's something different from what Admiral
Peary did when he found the North Pole. We are well met here,
Archdeacon, if you will allow me to say so, and if you will accept us
I may say that we all are sportsmen, and sportsmen are always well
met."
He motioned to his young companions, and each of them in turn came up
and shook hands with this explorer of the Far North, who greeted them
with gravity and kindness.
"Well," said he, at length, smiling, "here is our little wretched
town, as bad, perhaps, as any white and Indian settlement in Alaska. I
have spent many years among these people, and I presume I am disliked
as much as any man along the Yukon! As you see, we stand for law and
order here, and we churchmen are hated here for that reason. We arrest
some of the lawbreakers and take them down to Ruby to the courts, and
have them fined or imprisoned. They threaten us--but none the less you
see we have not run away.
"You will come to our services to-morrow?" he added. "Yonder is our
little log church. Perhaps our services will prove interesting for a
special reason. I speak in our tongue, but what I say must be
interpreted to my Indian audience."
"Certainly; we'll be glad," said Uncle Dick. "We feel as though we had
somewhat lapsed these last few weeks. It is fine to be with you here
and in these surroundings."
"I see that your young friends carry books in their pockets, and
papers," rejoined the archdeacon, nodding to Rob and John.
"Oh, that's nothing, sir," said Rob. "We just make notes of things as
we go along, you see. John here is our map-maker. He always makes maps
of the countries which we visit. So you see--"
"And did you make a map of the summit of the Rockies--the old Rat
Portage of the traders, young man?"
"Why, yes, sir," said John. "I put it all down here as we went along,
and Uncle Dick says it's pretty good. He's an engineer."
He now spread out his map upon the table, as their host suggested.
"I'll tell you why I asked," said the latter. "As I have said, I have
been obliged to be an explorer and a traveler myself--my field is very
large. It is nothing for me to travel a hundred miles behind a
dog-sled in the winter-time to hold services or to make a baptism or a
wedding. Sometime I hope to make that very journey that you have made.
At Dawson I have seen some maps, or alleged maps, but no two are
alike."
"That's what Uncle Dick told us and what we have found out," said Rob.
"We couldn't get any idea of that country at all, and had to find it
out for ourselves."
"I'll tell you what I'll do, sir," said John. "When I get back home
and into Uncle Dick's engineering office I'll make you a tracing of my
map, and you can have it for your very own. I shall be very glad to do
that."