buildings of Fort St. Michael and the 
half-deserted old town itself straggling 
irregularly between; the “Russian 
Gardens,” looking forlornly seaward; 
the promontory on the northernmost 
point where the “Wireless” stretches its 
gaunt, naked fingers up into the 
frosty air, to pluck therefrom the won¬ 
dering rumors of the World;—I, too, 
await the onslaught of the Arctic win¬ 
ter, which heralds the opening of the 
Trail. For me, the shortening Autumn 
days, crowded with new and interest¬ 
ing experiences—for St. Michael is 
rich in historical and legendary lore— 
passed rapidly. The first icy blast 
that swept down from the Polar Seas 
was followed by a heavy snowfall, and 
grim Winter’s reign had begun. Every¬ 
where appeared queer, fur-clad bipeds, 
and everywhere could be heard the soft 
tinkle of bells—the excited barking of 
dozens of “huskies” and “malamutes” 
being harnessed to their places 
in the teams ready to “break 
trail”—the disappointed howls 
of those left behind, tugging 
futilely at their chains—the 
shrill cries of the “musher,” 
and the warning crack of his 
whip. 
Then did the white-velvet 
hills on the eastern horizon— 
sparkling in the sunlight like 
a jeweler’s window strewn 
with rare gems—beckon and 
call with all the allurements 
of the fabled Sirens; but, as 
always when the object de¬ 
sired is worth while, obstacles 
arose which seemed to effectu¬ 
ally bar the way to accomplishment. I 
did not own dog-team or sled—the 
emaciated condition of the family ex¬ 
chequer absolutely prohibited such 
ownership, and I was mortally sure 
that I was incapable of managing 
either or both on the trail, had a com¬ 
plete outfit been presented me. After 
I had accepted invitations from several 
St. Michaelites to go “mushing” with 
them on little pleasure 
rides, I realized my 
limitations in that re¬ 
spect. However, I 
pinned my faith to the 
old maxim — “All 
things come to him 
who waits” — and 
forthwith adopted a 
policy of watchful 
waiting. When oppor¬ 
tunity rang my door¬ 
bell, I resolved to have 
my hand on the latch 
in ready welcome. * * * 
According to tradition, 
and in due course of 
time, came opportu¬ 
nity. Not, however, 
MRS. TOTPAN AND HER PRIZE-WINNING 
HAND-MADE HARNESS 
heralded by the rhythmic patter of 
furry feet in the soft snow, the joyous 
waving of bushy tails, and the lifting 
of pointed sensitive ears, alert to catch 
the crisp command of the “musher”— 
that / had believed to be the one— 
and—only means of “hitting the trail” 
in Alaska. True, it is the generally 
TRAIL BEAUTIES 
accepted means of travel, and the one 
you hear about, talk about, read about 
—the one that is exploited far and 
wide in all Alaskan tales—and with 
all good reason—for Alaska surely 
owes a lasting debt of gratitude to 
these loyal and trusty followers of the 
Trail, and will continue to increase the 
indebtedness for many years to come. 
The Husky, however, is beginning to 
■ ■rrww.-;-...- -•» 
sense a rival in the field of his en¬ 
deavor, and a powerful one, too, in 
that your Uncle Samuel’s own Depart¬ 
ment of the Interior, through the me¬ 
dium of the Bureau of Agriculture, is 
its sponsor. 
I now have the honor to introduce 
to you the Reindeer!—the sharer of 
trail honors with the Dog, but in other 
fields of usefulness leaving him hope¬ 
lessly “at the post.” This usefulness 
is summed up concisely in one of the 
stanzas of the “Herder’s Song”: 
“Travel’s not the only thing our noble 
deer can do, 
They give us food—the best of it— 
and warmer clothing, too. 
To do this work’s about the best Alas¬ 
kan boys can do, 
With the Reindeer, the Pride of 
Alaska!” 
The Eskimos, or natives of 
Alaska, outnumber the whites 
three to one. It is for their 
uplift and advancement as a 
race, along educational and 
economic lines, that the Gov¬ 
ernment imported reindeer 
from Siberia, to the end that 
they may become commercially 
self - supporting and indepen¬ 
dent, and it is teaching them 
to care for their herds scien¬ 
tifically and to use them ad¬ 
vantageously. That the Alas- 
J kan School Service realizes 
the importance of this branch 
of their work is apparent in 
their systematic and efficient 
“ : ' rr?S! 
/ 
ON THE ICE 
TRAIL THE REINDEER IS A HARD WORKER WHO CAN 
FORAGE FOR HIMSELF 
method of handling it. But I digress. 
Opportunity is still at my door, bring¬ 
ing me the coveted invitation to join 
the traveling party of the Superinten¬ 
dent of Schools of Western Alaska, 
from St. Michael to Shaktoolik — a 
distance of over a hundred white miles 
—to the Reindeer Fair. To “hit the 
trail” with Reindeer! Was ever any¬ 
thing more romantic? Did I hesitate 
about accepting, or de¬ 
cide to “consider the 
matter and let you 
1 know later”? I did 
not. I closed the de¬ 
bate then, there, and 
conclusively, with an 
unconditional accep¬ 
tance. 
Shaktoolik, an Es¬ 
kimo village on the 
northeastern coast, is 
the center of the rein¬ 
deer industry of the 
western district, and is 
the seat of the Rein¬ 
deer Fair, fostered and 
held annually by the 
Bureau of Education, 
I 
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