mulation of meat and fish is cached in rocky caverns, in the forks of trees, and in little log storehouses built on tall piles out of reach of wild animals.

Some of this provision is left for winter excursions, for the Indians will be roaming over the land again a few months hence, trapping the fur-bearing animals, and a supply of food at different points of the land relieves them of the necessity of transporting it. In the spring they go south to Neska-taheen, and there meet the Chilkat Indians, with whom they trade their skins and furs. Some, however, take the northern trail, and barter their winter catch with the white traders on the Yukon River. We learned from the Indians here that we could reach that stream in six or seven days, but the season was now too far advanced for the undertaking. To the southwest of our position, about a hundred miles away, was the Mount St. Elias region; to the north of us the natives told of two very large lakes, Hootchy-Eye and I-she-ik, which we deeply regretted it was not in our power to visit. To the west was another big lake, Tloo Arny.

remarkable; they would appear in the air in all kinds of positions, but managed to alight on their feet again. I succeeded in getting an instantaneous picture of one of them in midair. There were always a lot of these youngsters around our camp, apparently interested

There were a few muskets among the Indians we met in the interior, but they killed a great deal of their game with bows and arrows, some of which were pointed with iron and copper, and others with bone. Even the little boys were very expert with these weapons. These Indians were the lightest-hearted that we met during the whole season. Comforted by a generous supply of food, they appeared to be in good spirits; the boys, when not required to carry loads of meat from the hunting-ground back to camp, competed with one another in wrestling, throwing stones, shooting arrows, running, and jumping, and they amused themselves once or twice by throwing one another up on a moose-hide. A big skin was selected, and slits cut all round its edges with which they could get a good hold with their hands; then all the bigger members of the band would form a circle and stretch the skin taut, holding it about four feet from the ground. One boy would stand on this, and they would endeavor to throw him off his feet by violently jerking him in the air; some of them were tumbled off in a most unmerciful way to the rocks around, but though they got badly bruised, they never complained. Many of the boys were very expert, and the wielders of the moose-hide failed to throw them off their feet. Their agility was

HOOTCHY-EYE STOREHOUSE.

in our doings and strange belongings, but they never stole the smallest thing from us.

At different times samples of native copper have reached the coast. These interior Indians have bartered it with other tribes, some of whom have taken it down the Copper River to the trading-posts on the sea, and the white men have had brought to them pieces of the pure metal weighing several pounds, and showing signs of having been hacked off a solid block. All the coast tribes refer traditionally and historically to the Copper Mountains of the interior. In former days the weapons and utensils were beaten out of this metal. Old Khay Tsoo, the powerful Chilkat warrior, despatched his slaves far inland with loads of seal fat to exchange for copper, but the warlike tribes living on the head waters of the White and Copper rivers attacked them so fiercely and persistently that the traffic ceased. The Indians at Nanchay's camp gave most encouraging accounts of the rich deposits of the metal away to the northwest of our position; they assured us that boulders of solid copper were piled at the bases of the mountains, from which they chopped off all they needed. Of course their information

was highly colored for our edification, though they had several little nuggets with them which they carried for repairing purposes. The old man had a band of it strapped around the bowl of his pipe, and the young hunter used barbed arrowheads beaten from the metal in its natural state. They told us that they had several lumps in the village, each as much as a man could carry.

A few days' march from that camp, a big stream heading from a group of mountains flowed to the north; on the map it is charted as the White River, on account of the milky color of its glacial waters, but to the natives it is known as "Eark Heene" (Copper River). The whereabouts of these copper mines is a mystery, but the combination of traditional reference and of fact, though exaggerated, convinces me that the problem could be solved, and that a well-planned research would be rewarded by the discovery of rich mineral deposits. We tried hard to get Nanchay or some of his people to pilot us to the interesting region, but they were all too jealous of their precious possessions to divulge the secret of location, and they emphatically declined, saying that the land was far away and the trails bad. Nanchay tried to console us with the promise that should we return another season, he would guide us to the place; but he wished to assure us that the present summer was too far advanced, and soon the winter snows would begin to fly.

A few days after our arrival the band of Indians divided into two parties and took the trail for new hunting-grounds. Nanchay was going in search of moose in the grassy hilltops to the north. He marched off at the head of a cavalcade of women, boys, and girls, all carrying heavy loads of blankets, old cooking-tins, fishnets and poles, parcels and baskets of dried meat and fish, bundles of hides, and a goodly sprinkling of babies lashed securely on the packs. Nanchay himself carried a very light load, and was the only man in the procession, which included two wives, three daughters, various mothers, mothers-in-law, grandmothers, aunts, and nine dusky youngsters of different shapes and sizes, with about sufficient apparel distributed among them to render one ordinary human being decent. The remainder of the band were going to hunt sheep on the mountains around Lake Tloo Arny, which lay to the southwest, and we agreed to carry their loads for them so as to benefit by their guidance. These Indian bundles were very undesirable freight, being composed of semi-dried meat, stale fish, unwashed rags, and rancid fat. The natives were shrewd enough to take advantage of circumstances; they marched slowly, snared small animals en route, and gathered armfuls of herbs and roots, all of which we piled on our horses. By the time we reached

the big lake, each of our animals was loaded down with their rubbish.

The drier lands of the interior are perforated and tunneled in all directions by the small ground-squirrels, which keep up an incessant piping. These little creatures are about the size of an ordinary gray squirrel, but have only a short tail. When on the ground they appear to be about six inches long, but their anatomy seems to be telescopic; for, when standing on their hind legs on the alert at some one's approach, they lengthen out till they are half as long again. The expert efforts of a band of Indian women with their snares will hush a whole colony of these little animals in one day. The women leave camp at about five o'clock in the morning, and return home at night with several hundred squirrels, the skins of which are patched into robes, and the meat is one of their favorite luxuries.

Lake Tloo Arny is a most important waterway; at its southern extremity it is seven miles wide, and stretches like a sea away to the northwest as far as the eye can reach. The Indians say that at its northern end a river drains into the Yukon; if such is the case, transportation can be carried on from this point by water. This immense sheet of water, along the shores of which the Indians say they sleep five nights traveling from one end to the other, is near the boundary line, and when the United States and Canadian governments do really decide to survey the limits of their respective possessions, the use of these waters will be a great aid to them. Streams draining the land around have grooved out ways from all points of the compass. The mountains around are rich in cinnabar, and the cañons hewn out in the rocky uplands show signs of silver and gold; but though there is plenty of good quartz, still we found no free metal. The general formation was granite, slate, and quartz, which is a good combination for mineral prospects.

Having reached the lake, the Indians made their camp on the hillsides; we pitched our tent on the stone flats near Goo-shoon-tar's. The old Indian urged us to return to the coast. "Winter is near," he said, and, pointing to the freshly whitened mountain-tops, warned us that the snow would soon be falling in the valleys.

Hidden away in the bushes we found a small Indian dugout, and Dalton and I decided to repair this and make a few days' exploring journey in it on the lake. We left our horses securely hobbled on a fine patch of grass-land in the neighborhood, then loaded up our tiny craft, and pushed off. The water, which was perfectly calm when we started, became gradually ruffled; but we made good headway with the paddles until we were crossing a bight in

and high waves rolled on all sides. Our canoe was rapidly sinking, and was already below the surface when Dalton and I, realizing that to save our own lives was all we could hope for, jumped into the water and quickly overturned the craft, spilling the contents into the lake. The cottonwood, relieved of its weight, floated bottom upward to the surface again. Then Dalton clung to the bow, and I to the stern, and we kept above water in this way. We swam toward the shore. Angry waves rolled over our heads, flinging us about as if trying to wrench away from us the upturned dugout, which alone could save us. The wind blowing along shore denied us aid, and the icy waters had chilled us till we were almost speechless; but we doggedly fought our way, and at last were nearing the shore. The prospect of saving ourselves was still a feeble one. On shore a bare wall of stone caving in at the water-line bordered the lake. We were rapidly carried on to this by the rolling breakers, which flung us against the rocky wall, or carried us in a surging foam into the hideous cave beneath. Each time we struck we propelled ourselves violently along the wall. Soon we found an opening, and when abreast of

and chain, scientific instruments, etc., sank in the depths of Lake Tloo Arny. At the time we were so thankful to save our lives that neither of us thought for a moment about the loss of property. Our blankets and my camera and notebooks were fortunately secured; fastened in a big oil-sack to keep them dry, they floated on the surface, and when the storm had abated we picked them up none the worse for the mishap. I have had the contents of a flint-lock musket emptied at me at short range, and have experienced the comforting sensation as the bullet missed its mark; I have felt the satisfaction of stopping a charging buffalo; but I don't think I ever felt such heartfelt thankfulness as when I was out of reach of the angry waves on the rocky shores of Lake Tloo Arny.

The head of Lake Tloo Arny was the farthest point reached by us. I have made a rough chart of the land through which we passed since leaving the coast, but scientific instruments subject to the jolting and hard knocks attendant upon such a journey enabled me to record only a crude idea of the lay of the land.

During the whole season we saw but little game-a few bears out of reach and some

mountain sheep on the heights. A small-bore rifle or a shot-gun is most serviceable in central Alaska, for there is a fair quantity of grouse, ptarmigan, squirrel, and duck.

Our season's travel took us over the entire basin of the Alseck, a river which drains an enormous territory. At the outset of our journey, having crossed the divide, we traced its eastern branch, the Tarjansini, which, gathering on its way waters from mountain torrent and snow-field, flows toward Neska-ta-heen. Fifty miles to the north of the Indian settlement another tributary of the Alseck heads from Lake Klook-Shoo, and, winding amidst the hill-lands, courses south and joins the Tarjansini, and these combined forces sweep across the rocky vale at Neska-ta-heen in a rapid torrent.

Then from the west, from an immense glacier and moraine near Lake Tloo Arny, the Kaskar Wurlch begins its southern journey, and is swelled at once into a dangerous river by the muddy waters hurled into it through gorge and cañon crushed in the mountains by the moving ice-fields sloping from the Mount St. Elias range. This stream, flowing to the south and west, is joined by still another arm, which has its birthplace in Lake Dassar-Dee-ash, to the north in Shak-wak valley. These two waterways flow and eventually pour into the Alseck

itself, a wild, dangerous river which races along with an eight-knot current, its volume at times spread over the rocky valley in a dozen channels which combine in one deep torrent when the mountains close in and narrow the limits with their rocky walls. Along the banks of the Alseck old moraines slope to the river's edge, and active glaciers are pushed far out into the stream; the internal working of the ice-field maintains a continual rumble, and blocks of ice topple into the river, and whip the waters into a confused, seething mass. Eighty miles to the east of Yakutat, on the south coast of Alaska, the Alseck River plunges in one deep, angry torrent through a cañon of rock and ice, flows over the stony waste known as Dry Bay, and pours a muddy volume into the blue waters of the Pacific Ocean.

The nature of the whole land can be roughly divided into three conditions: Snow- and icefields bury the coast-range and choke up every hollow; to the immediate north the valleys are rocky and barren, but the vast interior beyond is richly clothed in luxuriant vegetation. Scientific authorities theoretically mapped out giant ice-fields as spreading over the entire land from the Fairweather and Mount St. Elias ranges north almost to the valley of the Yukon.

Colossal heights mantled in never-melting

snows tower thousands of feet in the air, but within the shadow of these mighty uplands, in the sheltered hollows beneath, lie immense valleys carpeted in richest grasses, and gracefully tinted with wild flowers. Here in the summer a genial clime is found, where strawberries and other wild fruits ripen to luxuriance, where there are four and a half months of summer and seven

third time, Dalton sprang off his back, and grabbed the tail of the horse I was riding, holding on to his horse's bridle with the other hand. My little mare was a powerful swimmer, and she was able to tow the strange procession to safety. Upon our return to the coast, we took the same trail by which we had entered the land;

and a half of winter. In June and July the sun is lost below the horizon only for a few hours, and the temperature, though chilly at night, has an average of sixty-five degrees in the daytime.

DRAWN BY W. G. FITLER.

We carried with us a supply of bacon, beans, flour, rice, and dried fruits, which lasted all the season, and when we arrived on the coast we had still a month's provisions left. We took extra horseshoes with us, but the difficult trails soon decreased our stock, and Dalton displayed great ability in shaping out a pair of shoes from an old English musket which we found in an Indian rubbish-heap.

Miners and prospectors have for many years been seeking a practicable way into the land through which we traveled, but the mountainpasses and want of transportation have kept them back. The trail is now broken and the way open to miners and Government agents. When swimming the Kaskar Wurlch on our return journey, Dalton, together with one of our horses, had a narrow escape. In midstream the animal was attacked by cramps, and sank three times. Upon rising to the surface the

VALLEY SCENE, CENTRAL ALASKA.

ENGRAVED BY R. C. COLLINS.

our horses were in splendid condition, and we rode them nearly all the way. The day we left Neska-ta-heen homeward-bound there were sixteen degrees of frost, and we passed through three snow-storms; at one place it had drifted till it was four feet deep. We had heeded the old Indian's warning none too early. For winter makes an abrupt entry in this land, and begins its stern rule with but short preliminary. The gradual whitening of the hilltops heralds its approach. The warning screech of the waterloon tells that storms are nigh. Rapidly the dazzling curtain rolls down from the heights around, covers up cañon and gulch, buries the forests of spruce and tamarack, and spreads over the valleys below an unbroken field of snow. The roar of the summer torrent is hushed, and lake and stream are frozen hard.

E. J. Glave.

VOL. XLIV.- 115.