CHAPTER XIV 



SUM DUM BAY 



1 ARRIVED early on the morning of the eighth of 

 August on the steamer California to continue my 

 explorations of the fiords to the northward which were 

 closed by winter the previous November. The noise 

 of our cannon and whistle was barely sufficient to 

 awaken the sleepy town. The morning shout of one 

 good rooster was the only evidence of life and health 

 in all the place. Everything seemed kindly and 

 familiar — the glassy water; evergreen islands; the 

 Indians with their canoes and baskets and blankets 

 and berries; the jet ravens, prying and flying about 

 the streets and spruce trees; and the bland, hushed 

 atmosphere brooding tenderly over all. 



How delightful it is, and how it makes one's pulses 

 bound to get back into this reviving northland wil- 

 derness ! How truly wild it is, and how joyously one's 

 heart responds to the welcome it gives, its waters 

 and mountains shining and glowing like enthusiastic 

 human faces 1 Gliding along the shores of its network 

 of channels, we may travel thousands of miles with- 

 out seeing any mark of man, save at long intervals 

 some little Indian village or the faint smoke of a 

 camp-fire. Even these are confined to the shore. 

 Back a few yards from the beach the forests are as 

 trackless as the sky, while the mountains, wrapped in 



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