80 ANTHROPOLOGICAL SURVEY IS ALASKA [eth.ann.46 



At 9 arrive at Mr. Williams's reindeer camp farther up the coast. 

 There are five tents and two small log houses of natives — the herders 

 with their families, dogs, and fish racks; and three whites, Mr. 

 Williams, owner of the boat and of most of the herd of about 

 8.000 animals ; Mr. Palmer, of the United States Biological Survey ; 

 and a Dane, Mr. Posielt, here for the Biological Survey of Canada. 

 All are alreadv at the corral some distance over the hill, brandiner. 

 counting, etc., the great reindeer herd, which belong to several 

 owners. 



A short walk along the shore brings me in sight of the herd. 

 The animals can be heard grunting a good distance off. The herd 

 is so large and so compact that it looks like a forest of horns. The 

 animals keep on moving in streams, but remain in the herd. They 

 go to the shore to drink some of the salty water, instead of salt. 

 All is of interest, even though the branding, the cutting off of big 

 slices from the ears, and castration, is rather cruel. 



At lunch, for the first time, reindeer meat, a select steak. It is 

 tender and decidedly good. Has no special flavor and is poor in 

 fat, but tender and good. 



Afternoon, once more to the corral, and then various things, 

 including a photograph of a little impromptu native group. 



Supper once more on reindeer meat. This time prepared as a- 

 sort of a stew with onions — again very good. But we were to leave 

 after supper for St. Michael and I see no intention to that effect. 

 Instead they all go once more to the corral to continue the work 

 until about 11 p. m. So I have to settle for the night, with some 

 hope that we may leave in the morning. We sleep four side by 

 side in a tent 10 feet wide. Luckily they had a spare clean blanket 

 or two, and but one of the three snores, and he like a lady; also 

 the weather has cleared and is warmer, so the night is fairly good. 



Wednesday, July 14. Morning bright, calm. Breakfast, and all 

 hurry off to corral without even any explanation — just a few casual 

 words, from which I understand that we shall not go. So I write 

 whole forenoon, though feeling none too good about the delay. 

 Had I my own boat, as one should have in this country, all would be 

 different. As it is I am utterly helpless. At lunch speak to Mr. 

 Williams; and though not much willing, he half promises that we 

 may go to St. Michael tonight. 



Afternoon. Walk 8 miles along the beach, to a cape and back, 

 looking in vain for traces of human habitation and collecting along 

 the beach what this offers, which outside of some odd, flat, polished 

 stones is but little. Come back near 6 — soon after supper — and hear 

 with much satisfaction that, after all, we will go to-night to St. 

 Michael. 



