Part 5

Everything on and along the river about the same as yesterday, except in little details. Sky clouded; light clouds, however. The boy with me has had good schooling (for a native) and is a good informer. But there is little of archeological or anthropological interest hereabouts. (Pl. 2, _a_.)

12.10 p. m. Another rounded island ahead of us; far beyond it grayish-blue hills and mountains. Six miles more to Kaltag. But little life here--a few small birds, a lone robin, a lone gull.

KALTAG

1.00 p. m. Kaltag in view--a small modern village on right bank, less than half the size of Nulato; a nearly compact row of log and plank houses. Nothing of any special interest seen from distance, and but little after landing. The old village used to be somewhat higher up the river.

There is an old abandoned site also just opposite the present Kaltag. Another site, "Klenkakaiuh," is, I am told, in the Kaiuh slough south of Kaltag, in a straight line about 10 miles, but no one there; and several other old villages in that region along that slough--same Indians as those of Kaltag. All of Kaltag go there on occasions, but do not live there permanently any more.

At Kaltag Eskimoid features already predominate and some of those seen are fully like Eskimo.

There is a tradition of an Asiatic (Chukchee) attempt at Kaltag once.

Later in the afternoon photograph some natives and go with Mr. Müller, the storekeeper, and Mr. McLeod, the intelligent local teacher, on the latter's boat, "hunting" along the banks up the stream. Meet an old Indian (Eskimo type) paddling a birch-bark canoe, said to be the only canoe of that sort now on the Yukon. About three-fourths of a mile above the village see caved bank and find a skull and bones--"split" old burial of a woman.

A canoe coming, so we all go farther up the beach, pretending to examine stones. It is only the boy who brought me, however, going home with some planks, and he grins knowingly.

After that we locate three exposed coffins, two undisturbed and covered with sod. These two, for fear of irritating the natives, are left. But the third is wrapped only in birch bark. It was a powerful woman. With her a bone tool and a white man's spoon. With the burial that had tumbled out of the bank there were large blue and gray beads and three iron bracelets--reserved by the teacher.

I gather all the larger bones and we put them temporarily in a piece of canvas. It is hard to collect all--the men are apprehensive--it might be dangerous for them if detected. Everything smoothed as much as possible, and we go across the river to examine two fish nets belonging to the trader. One of these is found empty; but the other contains five large king salmon, 15 to 20 pounds each, three drowned, two still alive. The latter are hooked, hoisted to the edge of the boat, killed with a club, and, full of blood, thrown into the boat--great, stout, fine fish. To secrete our other findings from the natives the storekeeper gets a large bundle of grass and ties it to my package. We shall be bringing "medicine."

Arrive home, only to learn that against our information the river boat has left Tanana on schedule time, is now above Koyukuk, and is expected to arrive at Kaltag before 8 p. m. Hurriedly pack, a few more photographs, supper, and the smoke of the steamer begins to be visible. In a little while she is at the bank, my boxes are brought down, a greeting with old friends on the boat--the same boat (_Jacobs_) on which I went from Nenana to Tanana--and we start off for Anvik.

Mr. Müller, the trader at Kaltag, German by birth, has a young, fairly educated Eskimo wife, a good cook, housekeeper, and mother of one child. The child is an interesting white-Eskimo blend.

In his store Mr. Müller showed me a good-sized heavy bowl of red stone with a figure seated in a characteristic way near one end. The specimen was said to have come from an old site on the Kaiuh and is of the same type as that at the museum in Juneau and the two in the east, one at the Museum of the American Indian, New York, and the other at the University Museum, Philadelphia. Regrettably Mr. Müller would not part with the specimen. (See also p. 34.)

The natives of Kaltag, so far as seen, are more Eskimoid than those of any of the other settlements farther up the river.

Fine evening; sit with a passenger going to Nome, until late. Learn that the boat to St. Michael is waiting for this boat and will go right on--not suitable for my work. Also we are to stop but a few minutes at Anvik, where I am to meet Doctor Chapman, the missionary.

Sunday, June 27. About 5 a. m. arrive in the pretty cove of Anvik. Received on the bank by Doctor Chapman, the head of the local Episcopalian mission and school, and also the Anvik postmaster. The doctor for the present is alone, his wife and daughter having gone to Fairbanks, and so he is also the cook and everything. In a few minutes, with the help of some native boys, I am with my boxes in Doctor Chapman's house, and after the boat has left and the necessities connected with what she left attended to we have breakfast. I am soon made to feel as much as possible "at home," and we have a long conversation. Then see a number of chronic patients and incurables; attend a bit lengthy service in Doctor Chapman's near-by little church; have a lunch with the ladies at the school; visit the hill graveyard. They have reburied all the older remains and there is nothing left. Attend an afternoon service and give a talk to the congregation of about half a dozen whites and two dozen more or less Eskimoid Indians on the Indians and our endeavors; and then do some writing, ending the day by going out for about a mile and a half along the banks of the Anvik River, looking in vain for signs of something older, human or animal. (Pl. 2, _c_.)

There are many and bad gnats here just now--how bad I only learned later, when I found my whole body covered with patches of their bites; and also many mosquitoes, which proved particularly obnoxious during the lunch. As the doctor is alone, the three excellent white ladies of the school, matron and teachers, invited us, as already mentioned, to lunch with them. We had vegetable soup, a bit of cheese, two crackers each, a piece of cake, and tea. But I chose an outlandish chair the seat of which was made of strips of hide with spaces between; and from the beginning of the lunch to its end there was a struggle between the proprieties of the occasion and the mosquitoes that kept on biting me through the spaces in the seat. Chairs of this type, and I finally told that to the ladies to explain my seeming restlessness during the meal, should be outlawed in Alaska.

THE ANVIK PEOPLE

The Anvik people, it will be recalled, were the first Yukon natives seen by a white man. They were discovered in 1834 by Glazunof, and since then have occupied the same site, located favorably on a point between the Anvik and the Yukon Rivers. They belonged to the Inkalik tribe, a name given to them, according to Zagoskin, by the coast people and signifying "lousy," from the fact that they never cut their hair, which in consequence, presumably, harbored some parasites. Their village was the lowest larger settlement of the Indians on the Yukon, the Eskimo commencing soon after.

The Anviks to-day are clearly seen to be a hybrid lot. There are unmistakable signs of a prevalent old Eskimo mixture. The men are nearly all more or less Eskimoid, and even the head is not infrequently narrower, fairly long, jaws much developed. The women, however, show the Eskimo type less, and the children in a still smaller measure--they are much more Indian. Yet even some women and an occasional child are Eskimoid--face flat, long, lower jaw high, cheek bones prominent forward (like welts on each side of the nose), whole physiognomy recalling the Eskimo. The more Indianlike types resemble closely those of the upper Yukon. There is perceptible, too, some mixture with whites, particularly in the young.

To bed about 11. Attic warm and window can not be opened because of the insects. Sleep not very good; some mosquitoes in room anyway. Wake up after 3 and just begin to doze off again when the doctor gets up. About 4 he puts his shoes on--one can hear every sound throughout the frame house, even every yawn--and then goes to the kitchen where there soon comes the rattling of pots. At 4.30 comes up to bid me good morning and ask me if I am ready to get up and have breakfast. A man with a boat is to be ready at 6 to take me to some old site. So a little after 5 I get up, shave, dress and go down. Another night to make up for sometime, somewhere.

We finish breakfast and the doctor goes to look for the man, but everything deadlike, no one stirring anywhere. So I pack my stone specimens from the river above and the bones from Kaltag, etc. It is 8 a. m. and then at last Harry Lawrence, our man, appears--having understood to come about that time--and before long we start, in a good-sized boat, up the Yukon.

Day mostly cloudy but fairly good; no wind. Must use mosquito mixture all the time, even after I get on boat, but they quit later. Am standing on the back of the boat against and over the "house" over it--inside things shake too much and I can not see enough.

Passing by fish wheels--heaps of fish in their boxes--some just being caught and dumped in. Picturesque bluffs passed yesterday seen to be of volcanic stone, near basalt, not granite, with indication of minerals. Passing close to vertical cliffs of fissured and fragmented rocks 200 to 500 feet high--dangerous. Consolidated volcanic ashes with inclosure of many bowlders--fine lessons in geology. Slides of soil and vegetation here and there. Large spruces and altogether a richer vegetation since this particular rock region was reached. There was in fact a plain line of demarcation in the vegetation where the rocks changed.

Sleepy. Afraid to doze and fall off, so go inside. But there the motor thumps and shakes too much for a nap to be possible.

About 12 miles upstream from Anvik, on the north bank, the mineralized rocks and tufa suddenly cease, to be superseded by a line, several miles long, of sheared-off loess bluffs about 200 feet high. Here the vegetation changes very perceptibly. Two mammoth jaws obtained from these deposits have a few years ago been given to Mr. Gilmore, of the United States National Museum.

22 to 23 miles up the river, north bank, a fine large platform and an old native site. Many signs still of pit and tunnel houses. A little farther upstream a hill with abandoned burials. Excavate a grave on a promontory over the river--not very old--wet and not much left of soft parts, but succeed in getting the skeleton. Fine middle-aged adult, somewhat Eskimoid, about typical for this region. Carry down in a bag, dry on the beach gravel. Lunch on beach; cheese, bread, coffee. The site is known as that of the Greyling River. (Pl. 2, _b_.)

Start back a little after 3. Very warm day. River smooth. Sky looks like there might be a storm later.

Hear of pottery--40 years ago it was still made at Anvik. Was black, of poor quality. The women used to put feathers in the clay "to make the pots stronger." When buried it soon rotted and fell to pieces. In shapes and otherwise it was much like the Eskimo pottery. Its decorations consisted of nail or other impressions, in simple geometrical designs, particularly about the rim. It was rather gross, but better pieces did occur, though rarely.

It is becoming plain that there are no known traces of any really old settlements along the present banks of the Yukon; nothing beyond a few hundred years at most. If there was anything older no external signs of it have been noted, and no objects of it have ever been found. It seems certain that the stone implements thus far seen were used and made by the pre-Russian and probably even later Indians. They all belong to the polished-stone variety. No "paleolithic" type of instrument has yet been seen.

It is also evident that the Eskimo admixture and doubtless also cultural influence extended far up the river. The farther down the river, particularly from Ruby, the more the Eskimoid physical characteristics become marked and the Indian diluted, until at Anvik most, or at least much, physical and cultural, is clearly Eskimo.

Have further learned quite definitely that native villages on the Yukon were seldom if ever stable. Have been known (as at Kaltag and elsewhere) to have changed location as much as three times within the last few scores of years, though in general they keep to the same locality in a larger sense of the word. Anvik alone seems to have remained on the old site since the advent of the whites.

Anvik, Tuesday, June 29. Last night gave talk on evolution to white teachers, etc. Quite appreciated, regardless of previous state of mentality.

Caught up with some sleep, even though my attic room was so hot that the gum from the spruce boards was dropping down on me. Good breakfast with the doctor--canned grapefruit, corn flakes with canned milk, bread toasted in the oven, and coffee.

Pack up my Greyling skeleton--much drier to-day--and dispatch by parcel post, through the doctor as postmaster.

Photograph school children and village. Gnats bad and have to wear substantial underclothing (limbs are already full of dark red itching blotches where bitten by them) though it is a hot day again.

The full-blood and especially the slightly mixed children would be fine, not seldom lovely, were they fully healthy; but their lungs are often weak or there is some other tubercular trouble.

The color of the full-bloods, juvenile and others, on the body, is invariably submedium to near medium brown, the exposed parts darker; and the chest test (mine) for full-bloodedness holds true. The young are often good looking; the old rather ugly.

All adults fishing now, the fish running much since a day or two; all busy at the fish camps, not many, in the daytime especially, about the mission.

At noon air fills with haze--soon recognized as smoke from a fire which is located at only about a mile, and that with the wind, from the mission. We all hasten to some of the houses in the brush--find enough clearing about them for safety. The school here burned two years ago and so all are apprehensive. Natives from across the river hasten to their caches. Luckily not much wind.

After lunch children come running in saying they hear thunder; one girl saying in their usual choppy, picturesque way, "Outside is thunder"; another smaller one says, "It hollers above." Before long a sprinkle and then gradually more and more rain until there is a downpour followed by several thunderclaps (as with us) and then some more rain. That, of course, stops the fire from approaching closer and all is safe. Such storms are rare occurrences hereabouts.

My limbs are a sight from the gnats. Must apply Aseptinol. Worse than any mosquitoes; like the worst chiggers. Poisonous--some hemolytic substance, which causes also much itching, especially at night.

Arrange to leave to-morrow. Good people these, unpretentious, but white through and through.

Mr. Lawrence, the local trader, who with his boy was with me yesterday, is going to take me to an old site down the river and then to Holy Cross. Donates a fine old ivory arrow point from the site mentioned. Doctor Chapman gives three old dishes and two stone axes--haft on one of recent manufacture. The natives seem to have nothing of this nature, and no old site is near. The nearest is Bonasila, where we go to-morrow.

This is truly a fish country. Along the placid Anvik River fish smell everywhere--dead fish on shore here and there, or fish eggs, or offal.

Wednesday, June 30. Hazy and cool, 52° F. Take leave with friend, Doctor Chapman, then at school, and leave 8 a. m. for Bonasila.

The gnat pest was bad this morning--could hardly load my baggage; had to apply the smear again, but this helps only where put and for a time only.

BONASILA

Close to 10 a. m. arrive at the Bonasila site. Not much--just a low bank of the big river, not over 4 feet high in front, and a higher rank grass-covered flat with a little stream on the left and a hill on the right. But the flat is full of fossae of old barabras (pit and tunnel dwellings), all wood on surface gone; and there is a cemetery to the right and behind, on a slope.

Examine beach and banks minutely until 12. Modest lunch--two sandwiches, a bit of cake and tea--and then begin to examine the shore again. Soon after arrival finding bones of animals, some partly fossilized; beaver, deer, caribou, bear, fox, dog, etc., all species still living in Alaska, as found later, though no more in the immediate neighborhood.

Mosquitoes and gnats bad--use lot of oil. Begin soon to find remarkably primitive looking stone tools, knockers, scrapers, etc. Crawl through washed-down trees and brush. Many stones on the beach show signs of chipping or use. Very crude--a protolithic industry; but a few pieces better and showing polished edge. Also plenty of fragments of pottery, not seldom decorated (indented). Make quite a collection. And then, to cap it, find parts of human skeleton, doubtless washed out from the bank. Much missing, but a good bit recovered, and that bit is very striking. (See p. 156.) Also a cut bone (clean cut, as if by a sharp knife) in situ in the mud of the bank, and a little birch-bark basket still filled with mud from the bank, with later a larger basket of same nature in situ; could save but a piece. Conditions puzzling. Was there an older site under one more recent?

2 p. m. About 2 p. m. go to the cemetery. About a dozen burials recognizable. A pest of mosquitoes and gnats--Lawrence soon bleeds over face and neck, while I keep them off only by frequent smearing. He soon has to smear, too. Open five graves--placed above ground, wooden (split and no nails) boxes covered with earth and sod. Skeletons all in contracted position, head to the east and lying on right side. Some in poor condition. Three women, one man, one child. Gnats swarm in the moss and the graves, and with the smears, here and there a trickle of blood, the killed pests and the dust, we soon look lovely. But there is enough of interest. With each burial appears something--with the man two large blue Russian beads; first woman--a pottery lamp (or dish), iron knife; with the second two fire sticks, stone objects (sharpeners), partly decayed clay dish; with the third, a Russian bead and a birch-bark snuffbox; with the child a "killed" (?) glass bottle of old form and an iron flask; in the grave of an infant (bones gone) a Russian bead. A grave of a child--bones burned.

6.15 p. m. Rest must be left. Lawrence may be enabled to do some work in the fall. Leave 6.15; carry quite a lot--in sacks, gasoline cans, lard cans. Wonder how I shall be able to send things from Holy Cross, and what next. Cool, sky overcast whole day.

HOLY CROSS

Thursday, July 1. Slept on the floor of a little store last night at Ghost Creek. The Catholic mission at Holy Cross, with all sorts of room, about 1½ miles down, and where, though late and tired, I visited Father Jules Jetté, a renowned student of the dialects of the Yukon Indians, did not offer to accommodate me, and the trader in their village could only offer me a "bunk" in one little room with three other people. So after 10 p. m. we went down to the "Ghost Creek," where I was gladly given a little corner in the store of Alec Richardson. Of course there were whining dogs outside, right next to the store on both sides, and they sang at times (or howled) like wolves, whose blood they seem to carry. And a cat got closed in with me and was pulling dried fish about, which she chewed, most of the night it seemed. So there was not much sleep until from about 5 a. m. to 8.30, after the cat was chased out and the dogs got weary. Then no breakfast till near 9.30.

Went to mission again to see Father Jetté--he is not of the mission--a fine old Frenchman and scholar. He was not responsible for last night and anyway I was spoiled farther up the river. His meritorious work deserves to be known and published.

After a very simple lunch packed yesterday's collections from the Bonasila site--five boxes. The parcel post here alone will cost $20.40. How odd that the transportation of the collections of a Government institution must be paid for from the little appropriation received for scientific work to another department of the same Government.

It is cloudy, drizzly, cold. Am endeavoring to leave to-morrow, but they want $35 to the next station, and the boat does not leave for St. Michael until the 11th. Fortunately I am able to send away the collections, and there will surely be some way down the river.

GHOST CREEK

July 1-2, 10.30 p. m. A night on the Yukon. (Pl. 3, _a_,) They have lit a powder against the mosquitoes. Smear the many gnat bites with Mentholatum--helps but for a while--and having now my fine meshed netting, my own bedding, and a clean pillow, I feel fine, safe from all the pests, and ready for a quiet night, all alone.

Commenced dozing off when a he-cat, who hid in the store at closing, begins to make all kinds of unnamable noises. Stand it for a while, but he does not stop and one could never sleep--so crawl out from the bed, catch the beast, and throw him out.

In again and settling down, when another cat--did not know there were two here--begins to mew and tries to force its way out under the door, which is about 2½ inches above the floor. Persists until I have to get up the second time. Throw that cat out and in bed once more.

In a minute, however, the dogs outside espied the cats and began a pandemonium of howls and yelps and barks. Try hard, but can not stand it. Moreover, the last cat got on the roof, where I hear him walking, and he seems in no hurry to get off. So finally have to get out, catch the cat on the edge of the roof, throw him back into the store, and to bed for another trial. But soon have to smear the body; the bites itch too much. The sleepiness is now quite gone. A mild amusement as to what next. It must be midnight or later now, and it has grown cold. One blanket is not sufficient. Doze off a little, wake up with cold, readjust blanket and flaps of bag, doze off a little again--the dogs commence to howl, just for a song this time, in two, three, then a unison. The bites itch bitterly, now here, now there. The sun has risen; it is real cold, probably no more than about 40° to 45° F. And so on until 5.30, when at last fall into a deep, dreamless sleep, regardless of light, cats, dogs, and everything and sleep until 8.30.

Wake up, can not believe my watch; but it goes, and so probably is right. But no one anywhere yet stirring.

Dress, wash a bit in the muddy river; head feels as if it had been knocked by something heavy. Make my "roll" of bedding and then work on notes, putting down faithfully what has transpired. About 9.30, at last, the storekeeper comes to say they overslept and that a cup of coffee will be ready before long.