A Canoe Voyage to Northward 



Our Kake neighbors set out for Fort Wrangell next 

 morning, and we pushed gladly on toward Chilcat. 

 We passed an island that had lost all its trees in a 

 storm, but a hopeful crop of young ones was springing 

 up to take their places. I found no trace of fire in 

 these woods. The ground was covered with leaves, 

 branches, and fallen trunks perhaps a dozen genera- 

 tions deep, slowly decaying, forming a grand mossy 

 mass of ruins, kept fresh and beautiful. All that is re- 

 pulsive about death was here hidden beneath abound- 

 ing life. Some rocks along the shore were completely 

 covered with crimson-leafed huckleberry bushes; one 

 species still in fruit might well be called the winter 

 huckleberry. In a short walk I found vetches eight feet 

 high leaning on raspberry bushes, and tall ferns and 

 Smilacina unifolia with leaves six inches wide grow- 

 ing on yellow-green moss, producing a beautiful effect. 



Our Indians seemed to be enjoying a quick and 

 merry reaction from the doleful domestic dumps in 

 which the voyage was begun. Old and young behaved 

 this afternoon like a lot of truant boys on a lark. When 

 we came to a pond fenced off from the main channel 

 by a moraine dam, John went ashore to seek a shot 

 at ducks. Creeping up behind the dam, he killed a 

 mallard fifty or sixty feet from the shore and at- 

 tempted to wave it within reach by throwing stones 

 back of it. Charley and Kadachan went to his help, 

 enjoying the sport, especially enjoying their own 

 blunders in throwing in front of it and thus driving 

 the duck farther out. To expedite the business John 

 then tried to throw a rope across it, but failed after 



