
490 
EFOREST@AN DD? SiR ka ve 

[SEpt. 28, 1907. 

ers, who go under the guise of hunters. They 
are handsome animals weighing from three to 
four hundred pounds each and have magnificent 
antlers early in the spring before they shed them. 
Their meat is unequalled in tenderness and palat- 
ableness. 
We decided to leave that country and go to 
the Seward Peninsula, 800 miles north of us, 
packed up our blankets and tent—all that was 
left of the supplies we had from our cache—and 
took the back trail. We had boned a fine pair 
of caribou hams the night before and hung them 
on a bush in front of our tent, but a bear took 
them away and so saved us fifty pounds in the 
weight of our packs and we made fast time out. 
We took a short cut over the mountains, and 
from their summits saw the Bering Sea on the 
north, the Pacific Ocean on the south, and 
stretching away to the west was a low plain 
dotted with hundreds of lakes, some of which 
were very large, and to the east were countless 
snow-capped peaks. : 
An old 
Indian hair seal hunter had come during our 
absence and camped on the beach, but not an 
article was missing, and the old man helped us 
pack our outfit and load it in the boat, with the 
exception of the lumber, which we left behind. 
We invited the -old Indian to dinner and then 
I understood what he meant by “tea”? which 
composed his whole English vocabulary. He 
emptied two quart cups of it and wanted more, 
but it was all we had unpacked, so gave him 
some coffee and made him understand what to 
do with it. He was a funny looking bow-legged 
old man, and his continued grin, in thanks for 
At our cache everything was intact. 
“cc 
the things we gave him, well repaid us. We 
killed quantities of ptarmigan and ducks and 
saw many beautiful white swans on the lakes. 
We had a quartering wind, and having put a 
keel on our dory, made good headway with a 
We wanted to reach Belkofski, about one 
hundred miles down the coast, in time to catch 
sail, 
there once a 
several 
mail boat, which calls 
We bound 
and made most of the distance at night, when 
the next 
month. were storm times 
the sea was calmer, and we would launch our 
boat and row as far as possible before the wind 
rose again. We were three days at the foot of 
Pavolof volcano, the 
voleano in Alaska, a perfect cone in shape and 
which is prettiest active 
We reached Belkofski after a seven 
without and were 
lighted to find the mail boat had not arrived. 
At one time, however, when we were crossing 
very high. 
days’ trip any accident de- 
the mouth of a bay and a good distance from 
land, a strong off shore wind sprang up sud- 
denly and it was with the greatest difficulty and 
exertion that we made land. The idea of going 
out to sea in a heavily loaded boat fourteen feet 
long caused us to ounce of muscle 
in our bodies, and for a long time the chances 
were strong against us. After that we were 
careful to keep close to the shore. We found 
a large whale boat high upon the beach at the 
foot of the volcano, where some unusual storm 
or tidal had 
doubtedly 
longed. 
We found Belkofski to be only an Indian vil- 
lage and Russian missionary station and were 
shown over the church by the priest, Rev. Alex- 
son, who was very friendly and hospitable to 
us and bought most of our outfit and dory. His 
wife is a California lady and she weighs >ver 
use every 
and which 
ship to 
driven it, 
the 
wave un- 
wrecked which it be- 
four hundred pounds. The church is a fine build- 
ing and would be a credit to a city of 25,000 
people. It was built about twenty-five years ago 
and cost the poor natives something like 20,000 
sea otter skins, which took them a good many 
years to get. The skins were only worth about 
$20 each then; now they often bring $700 or $800 
and are very scarce, only one small one having 
been taken that season up to the time we got 
there, and a not very conscientious trader had 
bought it for $250. The church is part stone 
and has a fine set of chimes and many large 
banners embroidered in gold. There are no pews 
or seats the pulpit near the altar. 
When the natives come in to worship they kneel 
or prostrate themselves on the bare floor, which 
is large enough to hold several hundred of them 
lving down. There are now only about one 
hundred natives living there and the ceme- 
tery has three graves for every living inhabi- 
tant, all surmounted by the Russian Catholic 
except on 
cross. 
The only white man in the place beside the 
priest was Mr. F. A. Golden, of Delaware, the 
Government school teacher at Unga. He was 
spending his vacation there and seemed glad to 
think his term of four years would be up next 
year, when he could return to civilization. He 
said the Indian children were very bright as a 
rule and readily learned to speak English, and 
also to read and write it. Most of the natives 
speak a mixture of Russian and Indian, which 
is a funny sounding dialect. The great trouble with 
the Indians there and at other places in Alaska is 
that the fur companies which once had trading 
stations at all their villages, had killed or driven 
off all the fur-bearing animals from which the 
Indian formerly made his living. Now they are 
deserted by the companies, and having taken up 
the white man’s customs, they find it hard to 
go back to their former mode of living, have be- 
come lazy and indolent, and being a dirty race 
of people they easily contract any disease or 
epidemic, which carries off hundreds every year. 
Their most admirable point is their honesty in 
spite of the fact that they have been robbed most 
unmercifully by traders. For every house they 
have they paid at least twenty times its value, 
and would have been a great deal better off if 
they had stuck to their sod houses or dugouts, 
which they call bougheries, as they are much 
than the frame and fuel is a 
scarce article, driftwood being their only supply. 
warmer houses, 
A friend of mine, who was up in the Kuskoquin 
River country told me a party of three came to 
the river about 600 miles from its mouth, and 
wanting to get across called to an Indian they 
river in his skin canoe. 
He took them over, and being. thin and hungry 
looking, they gave him a meal. They 
wanted to go further up the river, but did not 
want to take the half ton of provisions they had 
with them and made signs to the Indian to stay 
and watch it. 
Ss 
saw coming down the 
good 
He nodded assent, but made signs 
that he was hungry and had nothing to eat, 
could not get any fish or game and to hurry 
back or he would have to eat his skin canoe. 
They expected to be gone only a few days, but 
did not get back for a week, and the first thing 
the poor Indian lying on the 
ground chewing a piece of skin as tough and 
dry as rawhide from his boat, over half of which 
he had eaten up. They quickly cooked a meal 
for him and gave him enough provisions to last 
a month. Is there a white man living honest 
they saw was 


enough to lay down beside a big pile of provis 
ions and starve, even if they did not belong t 
him? I think you will find it only in those poo 
ignorant natives, who may lose all they hav 
by rogues, but would not steal a mouthful t 
save their lives. 
I went up a little creek near Belkofski an 
with two flies caught 145 trout from ten to fif 
teen inches long from one pool in an hour an 
a half. I would get a dozen rises at each fl} 
as fast as I could cast and often made a doubl 
catch. We were in our tent after dark tha} 
night when we heard a tremendous racket, gun} 
being fired and everybody yelling. We ran ou} 
and felt like shouting ourselves, for, comin; 
around an island was the mail boat for whicl| 
we had been waiting. We went aboard, takin; 
enough trout to make two meals for the pas} 
sengers and crew. 
While steaming down the coast off Unimal 
Island, which is 100 miles long and has som 
active volcanoes, we were flagged from shore b} 
two men who came out in a small boat and wer} 
taken on board. One of them was Owen Jack} 
son, a prospector, whose three partners had bee} 
shot and robbed by a man named Hardy, a de} 
serter from a fishing schooner. Mr. Jackso)} 
was wounded but escaped, and had wandereil 
around without hat, coat or shoes for seventee)! 
days, with nothing to eat, and had lain dows} 
on the beach to die. He was found by a pros 
pector named Williamson, who took him to hi} 
cabin and for three weeks gently nursed hir} 
back to life. Mr. Jackson’s feet were cut ter 
ribly by the lava rocks while escaping from th 
murderer and looking for help, and was in 
pitiful state, but later went in search of th} 
murderer from Dutch Harbor on the revenu} 
cutter Manning and helped capture him, afte? 
which he returned to the States. Hardy wa} 
tried, convicted, and sentenced to be hanged ay 
Nome, Alaska, on Dec. 6, Igor. Wy 
Going through Unimak Pass into Bering Sec! 
we ran for miles through a school of whales ani! 
saw thousands of them spouting and playing, 
The air and water were dark with myriads o; 
whale birds. They are black in color, about thi 
size of pigeons, and follow the schools of whale| 
to eat the undigested matter the whales throy, 
out when they blow. } 
We reached Unalaska July 17 and pitched cam} 
to await a Nome boat, which stops there fol! 
coal on the way from Seattle. Unalaska has h 
large Indian population, a good many cannin) 
company buildings and four saloons, the first 
we had seen since we left Seattle. f 
We had a long wait of nineteen days an) 
amused ourselves principally by fishing, catch] 
ing beautiful trout from twelve to twenty inchelt 
long in the many mountain streams. They wer! 
all the Dolly Varden, the gamiest fish that eve, 
took a hook. The Roanoke arrived on Aug. 7 
and we went aboard, glad to leave the country) 
where we had been for two months and onl? 
had two bright days. The continued downpour}, 
and storms, as well as the drifting fogs, mad\y 
living in a tent very uncomfortable. Our younge#) 
partner had enough of Alaska and returned t, 
Seattle from Dutch Harbor, which is only on) 
mile from Unalaska, but my old partner any 
myself had the fever for that precious meteli 
too deeply rooted in our veins to be overcom* 
or disheartened by one failure, and we followe., 
implicitly the motto, “If at first you don’t gi 
ceed,” ete. ( 
































































































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