98 THE RED MOUNTAIN OF ALASKA. 
The Indians informed him, correctly enough, that in 
Alaska and the adjacent British possessions large game is 
scarce in the summer time, being driven away by the 
dense swarms of mosquitoes, and following the melting 
snow line up the flanks of the mountains. 
By one o'clock Mr. Button estimated that they must 
have made thirty miles from the island where they had 
spent the night. Everybody was hungry, and it was 
intimated to the chief that it was time for dinner. The 
old fellow looked black, but presently gave a few sharp 
orders to his band, who once more plunged into the ice- 
cold water, waist-deep, and drew the raft ashore. 
While some were building a fire, and others producing 
pieces of strong-smelling dried salmon for the meal, Hugh 
took the opportunity to try his rod in the stream, using a 
small red-and-white fly. At the third cast he had a 
hungry rise ; in a couple of minutes a fine spotted gray- 
ling of perhaps half a pound weight was flopping about 
the timbers of the raft. The Ayans were immensely im- 
pressed by the young angler's performance, and instantly 
a dozen eager hands were stretched out beseechingly for 
the rod. Indeed, the Buttons soon found that, while the 
natives assumed a vast deal of dignity on absurd occasions, 
they were not above begging for every movable thing they 
saw in their guests' possession. This trait gave the latter 
some uneasiness, but Mr. Button had already made up his 
mind to give his dark-skinned entertainers the slip before 
daylight the next morning, if it were possible. 
