IN GREEN ALASKA 



cub. He and his guide, an old Russian named 

 Stepan Kondakoff, found her grazing near the 

 snow-hne on the mountain-side about ten miles 

 to the south. She was eating grass like a cow, Mr. 

 Harriman said. She was a large animal, but below 

 the size of the traditional Kadiak bear. Her color 

 was a faded brown. A much larger one was seen 

 far across a difficult valley. 



On July 3, which was bright and warm, a num- 

 ber of us visited Wood Island, a few miles to the 

 east, where the North American Commercial Com- 

 pany has its headquarters, and where are large old 

 spruce woods and lakes of fresh water. Charles 

 Keeler and I heard, or fancied we heard, voices 

 calling us from out the depths of the w oods ; so we 

 left the party and took ourselves thither, and lounged 

 for hours in the mossy, fragrant solitudes, eating our 

 lunch by a little rill of cold water, listening to the 

 song-birds and ravens, and noting the wood flowers 

 and moss-draped trees. Here we heard the winter 

 wTcn at our leisure, a bubbling, trilling, prolonged 

 strain like that of our eastern bird, but falling far 

 short of it in melody and in wild lyrical penetra- 

 tion. In other words, it was the same song sung by 

 a far inferior voice. The elusive note of the Ore- 

 gon robin, as though the dark, motionless spruces 

 had found a voice, was also heard here and there. 

 These woods were not merely carpeted with moss, 

 they were upholstered ; the ground was padded 



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