energetic plunging she broke her way through and climbed

DRAWN BY H. D. NICHOLS.

choked with boulders, and hemming in an angry torrent. Sometimes the approach was down a steep face of slippery granite, and the horses would slide several feet before getting foothold; in other places loosened rocks would give way. But our plucky little animals would struggle and spring into safety, and obtain respite from the threatened accident. Many of the cuttings grooved out are shallow, with low grass banks sloping gracefully to the beds of tiny streamlets beneath.

From the Kleeheenee River to the summit and over the divide our course had been almost due north. When once beyond the coastrange, which took up two days' hard traveling,

we gradually descended to a lower level, and struck away to the westward into a great valley, reaching as far as the eye could see, and walled on each side by a lofty line of mountains, thickly wooded to the snow-line. Avalanche and torrent had hewn the hillsides into deep ravines, and moving ice-fields had forced a way through the rocky wall. In the valleys beneath a rapid stream coursed along to the west, gaining volume on the way as tributaries from lakes and of melting snow flowed into it through the mountain gorges. As the lower levels were choked with timber-lands, we struck to the left, and found a better way along the

crests of the foot-hills; we crossed immense areas of glacial deposit,-boulder, pebble, and sand,-floundered to the saddle-blankets in spongy quagmire, and tramped through pasturelands clothed in the richest grasses. Several times our horses sank deep into the treacherous bog, which threatened to engulf them, but by taking off their heavy packs, unsaddling them, and aiding their own efforts by liftingand hauling, wewere always able to get them out into safety again. After encountering any such mishap, we made it a rule to prospect for another way, so as to avoid the bad places

on any future journey. Even on the heights we found lakes and marsh-lands, which owed their origin to waters from melting snow, imprisoned in hollows, without an outlet.

After two more days of hard traveling we reached a wooded bluff overlooking an Indian village. Descending to the banks of a river the course of which we had been following, we fired a couple of rifle-shots, which is the Indian signal of approach. Soon a crowd appeared on the opposite bank, and shoved their dugouts into the stream; we unsaddled our horses, and swam them across the river, and the Indians carried our belongings over in their canoes. We loaded up again, and a few minutes' walk took us to the Indian village of Neska-ta-heen. Dal

ton and I had met these people during the journey of the previous summer; we then approached this settlement from the north on our way down the Alseck River to the Pacific Ocean. The road over which we had now traveled was the direct way from the coast. No glaciers or insurmountable difficulties obstruct this route. Our arrival at this point with the pioneer band of horses is a most important event in Alaskan history, destined in the near future to receive due recognition.

We had been accompanied thus far by three coast Indians, one as interpreter, and two as

guides, hired at two dollars a day and their board. This precaution is absolutely necessary in pioneer travel; those who follow in an explorer's footsteps can dispense with it. These men took us over the most difficult trails, endeavoring by all means in their power to make our experiment a failure. In fact, they had accompanied us in order to have the opportunity of disheartening us in their own interest. We carried their blankets, and everything they had, on our horses, so that they had to keep up with our pace. However, being paid by the day, they tried to delay us; but it was to our advantage to make long marches. On our arrival one of these men, Shauk, an Indian doctor of the Chilkat tribe, began at once to intrigue with the interior Indians, persuading them to arrest our passage through their country, as we had come to steal their land. We discharged this fellow at very short notice; then the other two, who did not relish our hard traveling, decided to leave us and to return to the coast. Had we been dependent upon these creatures we should have been most seriously inconvenienced, but our horsetransport kept us safe against their unreliability. One of the guides, old Indiank, had a novel excuse for leaving us. He said his relatives on the coast did not wish him to travel into the interior any more; he was getting old, and they feared that some day he would drop down dead on the trail. They promised him that, if he would remain with them, they would supply him with all the dried salmon he needed, and agreed, when he died, to put a little fence around his final resting-place. He gave us to understand that it would indeed be sad should he die away from home and forfeit that little fence.

Our arrival at Neska-ta-heen created excitement among the natives; our horses, of course, were of far more interest than ourselves. They had never seen such animals before, and, for the want of a better name, called them "harklane ketl" (big dogs). This village looked as we had left it twelve months before; there was the same stifling atmosphere, and the natives themselves were wearing the same unwashed garments stiffened with fat and dirt. They received us good-naturedly, and the old

chief Warsaine portioned off a corner of his hut for us and our supplies, and the chief's wife consented to be photographed. One young fellow had learned from a Chilkat Indian a few English words. As we reached the place at midday, we were naturally astonished to be loudly hailed by "Good-night!" This youth used the expression "too late" with varied meaning; it described a tear in a shirt or a death. I was commenting on the pest of mosquitos, and he remarked," E-koo-gwink kon sissa hit takar too late," meaning, "A little fire in the tent and the mosquitos will be 'too late.""

Our poor horses suffered severely from the mosquitos; such crowds surrounded them that at times it was difficult at a little distance to make out the definite outline of the animals. Any future travelers should supply their horses with thick canvas cloaks, covering securely the

bodies and heads, and leaving only the eyes, nose, and mouth exposed. The continual pestering which the poor brutes suffer keeps them in poor condition; they cannot feed or lie down in comfort. We kept them hobbled all the season when not at work; a necessary precaution, for if seriously startled or frenzied by torment from insects, they might stampede a hundred miles before being overtaken.

The village of Neska-ta-heen is the principal settlement of the Goonennar Indians, the tribe inhabiting that part of Alaska bordered on the north and east by the Yukon, on the south by the coast-range, and on the west by the Copper River. They speak a language somewhat resembling the sing-song tongue of the Chinese, and entirely different from that of the coast natives, which is composed of harsh, raspy sounds, obtained by trying to cork up the throat

with the roots of the tongue. Throughout their conversation peculiar clicking sounds are heard, resembling the sudden rending of a new piece of calico. They are peaceably inclined, but are always weak-minded enough to be influenced and controlled by the Chilkat Indians, whom they instinctively acknowledge as their superiors. They are a strangely cold-natured people. They have no ways or words of greeting. A friend from a far-distant land arrives, and without any exchange of salutation with the villagers, whom he has not seen for many months, he divests himself of his pack and arms, draws his blanket round his shoulders, and squats before the fire till his host acknowledges his presence by offering him a pot of fish and game and a big horn spoon. When stimulated and refreshed by the appetizing dish, he will gradually and deliberately unburden himself of news, dilating fully upon hunting and trapping, but passing over deaths and accidents with but slight reference; for the price which an Indian obtains for his black-bear or fox-skin is of more concern than his mother's death.

The gastronomic taste of these people has an extended range. I have seen an Indian harpoon a salmon, bite a mouthful from just above the nose, then fling it back into the stream. Strange to say, the fish swims off as though the loss of that part of its anatomy were no inconvenience. I remember at one time visiting a little rocky island which had been taken possession of by a flock of gulls, and we gathered a lot of eggs. It was a little late in the season, however, and only a few were really fresh. An old Indian we had with us at the time watched us with disdainful gaze as we selected the good and discarded the bad. Then, as if to rebuke our fastidiousness and lack of economy, he broke half a dozen in his pan; good, bad, and indifferent were then all mixed up in an omelet to his liking. It is a crude palate that enjoys the delicious wild strawberry served in rancid fat, yet to the Indian this fruit is insipid unless thus dressed. Antiquated fish-heads are a favorite dish; they are kept in wooden troughs for several weeks before they are thought to be fit for eating. This dish is produced only upon some important occasion warranting a banquet. When eat ing meat they toast it in big long strips, then stuff as much as possible into their mouths, and cut off each bite close to the lips with their knives. No people in the world are more addicted to the use of tobacco; they are incessantly indulging in the narcotic in some form or other. They smoke, chew, and plaster their teeth and gums with a paste made of dampened snuff and ashes; they even sleep with tobacco in their mouths. Men and women are equally devoted to the weed, and a child seven VOL. XLIV.-89-90.

or eight years old will never lose a chance of enjoying a few whiffs from its father's pipe.

In the disposal of their dead there is an element of precaution highly commendable. The departed one is laid on a pile of dried logs that have been smeared with grease; a fire is then started, and the few charred remains gathered up, tied in a small bundle, and stowed away in one of the neat, brightly painted little houses at the back of the village. On the coast each family has its own grave; in the interior they are not so particular. It is seldom that one finds people, even among the most savage, who do not have some respect for their dead, excepting, of course, the cannibal tribes of Africa. In making a short trip within a few miles of this settlement, we were attracted to a little clearing by a loud buzzing of flies, and found an Indian lying dead with only a few branches rudely thrown over him. The man was poor, and left behind no furs, or guns, or blankets to compensate any one for the trouble of disposing of the body according to tribal custom, so he was left where he died on the trail, although his own brother was in the party at the time of his death.

The dog plays a big part in Indian life. In summer he accompanies his master on the trail, and is harnessed with two little pack-bags in which is stored away about twenty-five pounds' weight, generally of shot, so that in crossing the stream no damage can be done. In the winter they draw the sleighs. These poor animals are very badly treated at all times. When an Indian child is out of temper he attacks a dog, pinches him, screws his ears round, or beats him with a stick. Only during a few months in the summer do the dogs get enough to eat. When the salmon are running they live on raw fish, but during the remainder of the year they have to be contented with scraps of skin and bone. When in good condition they are fine-looking animals, with a wolfish head and body, and a coat resembling that of a collie. As a rule want of food and hard treatment keep them very lean. They are equipped with strange digestive organs; at one time one of them ate at one meal three courses, which deprived us of our only piece of soap, the remains of a towel, and a goodly slice of Dalton's hat. On another occasion the leathers of our oars, thickly studded with copper tacks, were torn off and eaten by a dog.

While at Neska-ta-heen I witnessed the ceremony of the medicine-man expelling from a sick woman the evil spirit which was attacking her. He was dressed in beaded buckskins liberally fringed, and wore a blanket around his shoulders; a few little charms hung about his neck, and he held a wooden rattle. The patient was lying on a robe of sheepskins in the center of the hut, and a crowd of natives were sitting

at the sides. All were smoking, and a big fire was blazing, creating an atmosphere more to be dreaded than the evil spirit. The medicineman approached the woman and uttered incantations, at first slowly and deliberately; but his speech and actions became more and more excited as he danced and hopped about, imitating birds and animals. He looked truly dramatic as he leaned over the woman, and, clutching fiercely with one hand at some unseen object, pointed tremblingly with the other to the aperture in the roof, as if grabbing the evil spirit and suggesting a means of exit. At intervals he would sing, accompanied by the beating of a drum and the voices of his audience. His first song referred to a raven, and while he sang he spread his blanket across his shoulders and hopped about and “cawed" in a way very suggestive of that bird. The chorus of this song ran thus:

Ann joo chay na tay na koo na hee; Ah ah ah, yeah; yeah, ah ah ah; the meaning of which is that he has hunted throughout the village and has found no one practising witchcraft. His actions and incantations increased in violence till they became a veritable frenzy, and he fell groaning to the earth. This finale suggested that he had succeeded in ridding the sick woman's body of the evil one-and the audience went away. The medicine-man plays a big part in the life of the natives, and on account of his power he is the most dangerous influence with which a white traveler has to contend. The credulous natives have confidence in his power. They will give him skins and furs, which they have been gathering for months during the winter, in return for some paltry charm to protect them against the ills which beset mankind. A fever or a swelling will disappear if he only blows on the sufferer, and an ugly gash from a bear's claw will heal at once under the same treatment. It is a form of faith-cure. They believe their medicine-man obtains control over birds and animals, extracts their cunning, and allies this with his own ability, thus forming a powerful combination which they credit with supernatural power.

Neska-ta-heen is a most important rendez vous. During the winter the natives of the interior roam over all the land in small parties, hunting and trapping, but return here with their spoils of black and brown bear, black, cross, gray, white, and red fox, wolverine, landotter, mink, lynx, beaver, etc., and exchange them for blankets, guns, powder, and tobacco, which the Chilkat Indians bring to them from the coast. The latter have always enjoyed a monopoly of this trade, and the natives of the

interior have been prevented by them from going to the coast.

From this point valleys of comparatively open country stretch away to the four quarters of the compass: to the east lies the way we had just traveled over; the valley of the Alseck River runs south to the Pacific Ocean; to the west there is a way to the back of Mt. St. Elias, and lakes Dassar-Dee-Ash and I-She-Ik lie to the north. Future research must tell what treasures lie concealed in these unknown regions.

From the coast to Neska-ta-heen we had taken the Indian trail as a basis, following it when good, and, as far as possible, avoiding its bad features. After that experience, we concluded that we could take a fully loaded packtrain from the sea to this village in seven days. Our successful experiment wrests from the Chilkat Indians the control of the road to the inte rior; the bolted gate hitherto guarded by them, to the exclusion of enterprise and progress, has swung back at the approach of the packhorse.

We tried our hardest to get guides at Neskata-heen to pilot us to the far interior, but they would not seriously entertain our proposal, though we offered most generous remuneration. They dared not go to the White River, which we wished to reach; the Indians of that region being always on the war-path. In former days the latter had made raids on this settlement and killed off the natives; in fact the present small population of about a hundred at Neskata-heen was attributed to fights with the Yookay Donner people dwelling on the banks of the White River. They pictured to us a frightful list of hideous obstacles to overcome-hostile natives, bottomless swamps, cañons, glaciers, and swollen torrents. Should we continue our course, we might possibly reach this far-away land and then be killed by the hostile Indians, and it was so far that we could not get back over the divide to the coast before winter set in, and we and our horses would perish. They begged us to change our plans and to make a journey through some safer part of the land, and to avail ourselves of their considerate guidance at two dollars a day and board.

I was able to extract a lot of crude topographical information from these natives; the novelty of pencil and paper and judicious little donations of tobacco threw them off their guard. By this means I gained a knowledge of their trails that proved of the utmost value to us in our advance. I cross-questioned them most fully, and learned of unmistakable landmarks and bearings; and when the natives refused to accompany us as guides, their scribblings of valleys, hills, and lakes availed to keep us on our course to the far interior of Alaska.

E. J. Glave.