Chapter 11

"To-day passed a boat tracking up-stream for Rampart. A man and dog were pulling. They had a sail set to help, and the steersman was poling and paddling the best he could to help. Even so, it was a slow way to get up-stream. We felt sorry for them when we left them. Later in the day met still another boat, two Indians tracking freight up to Rampart House. They say sometimes freight is carried up this river with a powerboat. These Indians say we've come about a hundred miles from Rampart, and that in about twenty miles we will be half-way to the mouth of the river. Wish it were not so far.

"_Wednesday, August 6th._--This is hard work. We rested and paddled and slept and paddled. Too much wind, and we had to quit toward evening. When the wind lulled we started again. Much rain and dark weather. Water very fast, probably six to seven miles an hour. We eat at least four times a day, so as to keep strong as possible. Considerable wind now, and fall seems coming. Whenever the sun comes out and we can lie down in the sun, we do, so as to keep warm while we sleep. Don't know how far it is to Yukon, but have been making good time.

"_Thursday, August 7th._--Head winds again, but sun bright and warm. Spent considerable time ashore, resting, as we were about played out, and we thought that we might now be safe in a little delay. Got off late in the afternoon, and did well. Uncle Dick says the Yukon can't be more than fifty to seventy-five miles ahead. Camped late in a bunch of spruce, and slept until 2 o'clock in the morning. When we began to run we saw signs of a salmon fishery such as we have in Alaska. There is a man here named Martin, and his squaw and children all camped on the beach. He says it is only thirty-five miles to the Yukon, and that we can do it in six or seven hours. Hurrah!

"_Friday, August 8th._--We can still paddle, but are not very strong, any of us. Uncle Dick is cheerful. He never has been out of sorts. We boys have been pretty tired, and sometimes Jesse has felt almost like crying, he was so played out; but we have all done the best we could to keep a stiff upper lip. Hope Uncle Dick will think we have done all right. Just the same, we are glad we are coming out of the worst of this trip. It has been worse than we thought.

"Passed two Indian camps in late evening. Then they said we were within three hours of Yukon. Entered the mouth of a white-stained slough which meant different waters from those of the Porcupine. We feel that we are now in the Yukon country--and that's _our_ country, because the Yukon and Alaska are one!

"Ten P.M. Hurrah! Hurrah! At Fort Yukon! Here is the American flag flying from the Anglican mission-house! We are crazy with joy, all of us boys, and Uncle Dick smiles all the time. We are safe now, because they say there'll be several boats up-stream yet this fall. Uncle Dick says there'll be no more danger, and he now begins to tell us that we have been through worse dangers than maybe we thought of. I suppose it was a pretty rough journey. Certainly we all got awfully tired. We are thin as snakes, all four of us.

"There is an Indian village below here, and a government school for Indian boys, besides the Anglican mission-house and church. It certainly does seem more civilized. This is our own country.

"And this is the Yukon that runs between the banks here--our own old Yukon! I love it better than the Mackenzie. For a while at least we will be under our flag, and not any other. All tired. Next we'd better go to bed. However, made camp near a road-house, almost a mile from the Indian village. Some whites live here who seem tough and noisy. Some liquor here with them, for they seem to be shouting and singing.

"Although we have been on American soil or American water since we left Rampart House on the Porcupine, this seems to us like the first time we have really been in our own country. Good night! Wish we were all home at Valdez with our people."

XIV

AT FORT YUKON

It was a ragged and dirty party of travelers, to be sure, who lay in the litter of the dooryard of the road-house, wrapped in their blankets, and sleeping late in spite of the warm morning sun which shone into their faces. They were exhausted by the long, trying, and hard work of their dangerous journey, and, once they felt safe, had fallen into the half-stupor which follows such fatigue. Therefore they did not at first know of the presence of the dignified and well-dressed man who stood hanging over the gate of the road-house, looking at the sleepers as they lay in the yard, rolled up in their blankets. Uncle Dick, always alert, was first awake, and sat up in his blankets.

"Good morning, sir," said he to the stranger.

"Good morning, sir," replied the other, in turn. "Excuse me, but I've been asked to look for the party of Mr. Richard McIntyre, himself and three young boys, who are reported to be lost somewhere between here and the mouth of the Mackenzie River. The relatives have sent in word by cable, and naturally it has come into my hands."

"I beg your pardon, sir," said Uncle Dick, sitting still, half-clad in his blankets, "but, although you may not suppose it, I am Mr. McIntyre, and these are the young men referred to, no doubt. You have word from outside?"

"From Mrs. Vernon Wilcox, of Valdez, and from Mrs. Henry D. Hardy, of the same city; I have the message here. It came down from Circle City on the last boat."

"And you, sir? I beg your pardon--"

"I am the archdeacon of the Anglican Church in this district," replied the other, "and my name is Hudson. I have come this morning to ask you to our house to live during your stay here. There will be no boat out for some days as yet." Still he looked half-doubtfully at the man whom he addressed, as though possibly he might be some impostor, so strange did he appear, unshaven, with long hair, and in garments which barely clung together.

Uncle Dick laughed at this, and explained that he did not blame any one for suspecting himself and his party of anything in the world. Then he called to his young companions, and the archdeacon himself smiled when he saw the four standing, the fresher for the pails of water which they threw over one another, in the front yard.

"I am a traveler myself," said he, "and have mushed dogs many thousand miles in this northern country. So I know what hard travel is, winter and summer. Come with me, if you please."

So they accompanied him to his home, the only civilized place, as Uncle Dick was disposed to say, in all the settlement thereabouts. Here the boys of the party had the best meal they had known for many a day, with real meat and gravy and actual bread and butter, such as they had been used to at home. Although, of course, they displayed no curiosity in their host's house, they were well pleased enough, as they later saw signs of comfort and good taste all about them.

"Now," said the archdeacon, after they had breakfasted, "I know how you feel about your clothes. Happily, I have some such clothing provided for our own needs here. Although the things will not be in the latest fashion, perhaps we can fix you up better than you now are.

"As for you," he said to Uncle Dick, "you are welcome to a suit of my own clothing if it will serve you. We are not dissimilar in build, I believe. Come with me and let us see what we can do for you."

In half an hour the four emerged from another room in the house, each with a complete new outfit, and to each of them it seemed, in the circumstances, that they were especially well-dressed.

"Well," said Uncle Dick, "you certainly are Good Samaritans in your church here in the North. I shall not offend you by offering pay for what you have done for us, but we have some boats here, with a canoe and a few odds and ends of that sort, which we shall be most happy to leave with you when we go out."

"I thank you very much for that," said the reverend gentleman. "All such things are very useful to us indeed. And I shall be glad to have them, provided that you are quite finished with their use.

"And now will you tell me of your trip?" he resumed. "It was over the old Klondike trail of twenty years ago--a dangerous trip for you to take with just boys like these."

"Well, you see," said Uncle Dick, with a look of pride on his face, "these are not just ordinary boys. They are an Alaskan product, 'young Alaskans,' all three of them, and more used to out of doors than are most young folk of their age. They are good travelers already, better than many a man; they have made the Peace River and the Saskatchewan, have run the Big Rapids of the Columbia, and have killed their Kadiak bear in southwest Alaska. I knew what they were or I never would have taken on this trip in their company. I fancy"--and he smiled--"that they did better than many a tenderfoot who came over the Rat Portage twenty years ago."

"No doubt, no doubt!" replied the archdeacon. "I join you in your pride that you are all Americans, like myself. I, too, am something of an explorer, as I may say modestly. I am just back from the climbing of Denali, and I had a boy with me in that ascent--an Indian boy he was!"

"Denali!" exclaimed Uncle Dick, excitedly. "You mean Mount McKinley--I know the Indian name."

The older man nodded with gravity. "Yes," said he. "We climbed it for the first time--the first scientific time. Of course you know about the false claims that have been made?"

Uncle Dick rose and grasped him by the hand warmly. "Sir," said he, "you are a great man, even had you never lived so long and useful a life here in your work. I am glad that the Church and not the traders put the first flag on top of the highest mountain on this continent. I congratulate you, and I am proud that my young friends can meet you here."

"It was not so difficult," said the reverend gentleman, modestly, once more. "Only, be sure, it actually was done. Be sure also that it was a boy--an Indian boy--who first set foot upon the top of Mount Denali. I held back when we got to the very summit, thinking it appropriate that a native of the people who owned this land before we came should be the first to set foot upon its highest summit."

"Fine!" said Uncle Dick. "That's what I call sportsmanship, and I want you boys to remember it. That's something different from what Admiral Peary did when he found the North Pole. We are well met here, Archdeacon, if you will allow me to say so, and if you will accept us I may say that we all are sportsmen, and sportsmen are always well met."

He motioned to his young companions, and each of them in turn came up and shook hands with this explorer of the Far North, who greeted them with gravity and kindness.

"Well," said he, at length, smiling, "here is our little wretched town, as bad, perhaps, as any white and Indian settlement in Alaska. I have spent many years among these people, and I presume I am disliked as much as any man along the Yukon! As you see, we stand for law and order here, and we churchmen are hated here for that reason. We arrest some of the lawbreakers and take them down to Ruby to the courts, and have them fined or imprisoned. They threaten us--but none the less you see we have not run away.

"You will come to our services to-morrow?" he added. "Yonder is our little log church. Perhaps our services will prove interesting for a special reason. I speak in our tongue, but what I say must be interpreted to my Indian audience."

"Certainly; we'll be glad," said Uncle Dick. "We feel as though we had somewhat lapsed these last few weeks. It is fine to be with you here and in these surroundings."

"I see that your young friends carry books in their pockets, and papers," rejoined the archdeacon, nodding to Rob and John.

"Oh, that's nothing, sir," said Rob. "We just make notes of things as we go along, you see. John here is our map-maker. He always makes maps of the countries which we visit. So you see--"

"And did you make a map of the summit of the Rockies--the old Rat Portage of the traders, young man?"

"Why, yes, sir," said John. "I put it all down here as we went along, and Uncle Dick says it's pretty good. He's an engineer."

He now spread out his map upon the table, as their host suggested.

"I'll tell you why I asked," said the latter. "As I have said, I have been obliged to be an explorer and a traveler myself--my field is very large. It is nothing for me to travel a hundred miles behind a dog-sled in the winter-time to hold services or to make a baptism or a wedding. Sometime I hope to make that very journey that you have made. At Dawson I have seen some maps, or alleged maps, but no two are alike."

"That's what Uncle Dick told us and what we have found out," said Rob. "We couldn't get any idea of that country at all, and had to find it out for ourselves."

"I'll tell you what I'll do, sir," said John. "When I get back home and into Uncle Dick's engineering office I'll make you a tracing of my map, and you can have it for your very own. I shall be very glad to do that."

"And if you will I shall be very much in your debt, my young friend," said the archdeacon. "That will be fine, and I shall value it. I fancy that many a Klondiker who was cast away in the winter-time in that wild country would have been glad to have had such assistance as this. But not even Harper or McQueston or any of the other early explorers on the Peace and the Liard and the Mackenzie and the Peel and the Rat and all these rivers running into the Yukon which have been so famous for their gold--not one of these men, I will say, could ever make an exact map of the country he had crossed. As for the traders--well, you know that yourself. They don't want new-comers, and they don't help them any too much." He sighed, spreading out his hands with but partial resignation.

"It is a hard fight which the Church wages with the fur trade in the North. We are antagonistic, although we live side by side, both Anglican and Catholic missions, almost in the dooryard of the Hudson's Bay Company and Revillons and all the smaller fry of independents which are pushing in now. But we do our best.

"Now, then, young sir," he resumed, turning to Rob, "I have no doubt that your notes are as good as this young man's map. I hope you will keep up your diary just as I have done in much of my exploration work in Alaska and the Northwest Territory. These things are invaluable in later life."

Rob thanked his host very much, and promised to do as he advised. Therefore, what he found of interest at this, the first considerable American settlement they met on the Yukon, should prove worth setting down in his own words.

XV

THE FUR TRADE

The memoranda which the historian of the party set down regarding Fort Yukon had more or less to do with the scenes and incidents connected with the fur trade which had come under his observation. But before coming to these Rob put down a few things regarding the nature of this American settlement on the great river of Alaska:

"_Saturday, August 9th._--We had forks and napkins at the archdeacon's house. Went out to see the town. Indian tents scattered over three-fourths of a mile. Three stores, a post-office, a church, and a road-house. Found the owners of the store at Old Crow which we burglarized, and paid them for what we got. They said it was all right. Seems as though there are hundreds of dogs here. Boat expected up the Yukon almost any day--there is no regular time for their landing here.

"_Sunday, August 10th._--Went to church in the log church. The archdeacon preached. A full-blood by the name of David interpreted. Another native read the liturgy, but not very well. The sermon was simple and plain. He touched the natives' pride. Told them how they used to get along with bows and arrows and stone axes, how they conquered the wilderness; told them not to forget those virtues and not to give way to the vices of white people. Many strange faces in the audience. Saw one like a Japanese samurai, with bristling beard and stiff black hair. Have seen this type everywhere these last 1,500 miles--people who look like Japs. I don't think much law and order here. White men married to Indian women. There is a government school and a good many Indian children go there. The men get too much whisky here.

"The archdeacon is a great traveler. He told me why people up north like bright-colored clothes. He says that the hind sack on his sled is brilliantly embroidered, and when he is mushing dogs he finds himself looking at this bright piece of color. All the landscape is very monotonous, and the night is hard to endure so long. He says that is why the natives like bright colors.

"This afternoon in the archdeacon's house I found a strange old book. It seems to have been written by some preacher some hundreds of years ago. His name was Bartolomeo de Las Casas. He must have been a Spaniard, for he is writing about the Indians. He says, 'We are killing them, and have done so relentlessly.' Seems to me that was a good deal like the fur trade. He goes on and says some more from Ecclesiastes: 'The Most High is not pleased with the offerings of the wicked. Neither is He pacified for sin by the multitude of sacrifices. Whoso bringeth an offering of the goods of the poor doth as one that killeth the son before the father's eyes.'

"Well, that sounds as though some one were writing at the big fur monopolies and the way they handle the Indians. Las Casas says that his Church thought they owned all the middle part of this continent. The Hudson's Bay Company started in to own all the northern part of it. I can't see the difference. Las Casas says the discovery and conquest of the American dominions has wrought ruin to Spain as a nation. The results were 'disastrous to her power.' I am only a boy, and don't know much about things, but I know perfectly well the fur trade is based on injustice. I consider it the most ignoble form of business in the world. I think it is pulling down the Indians--as the archdeacon said in his sermon, they were more manly and self-respecting before the traders came. If the government of Canada claims to be so good, it might look into the injustice done to the native people by some of the traders, both the old companies and the independents. I have read somewhere, 'No right is or can be founded on injustice.' So what rights have they got?

"The Spaniards were after gold, and these big companies are after fur. They have both relied on keeping the natives down. That's why they are so jealous of outsiders getting any knowledge about their ways.

"I have heard that an Indian always pays his debts to the trader. On this trip I heard a man say that the big companies never forgive an Indian a debt in all his life. He would not dare to let his debt run if he could pay it, because if he did he would starve.

"I wonder if old Mr. Las Casas was any relation to the archdeacon here. They both preach a good deal alike, it seems to me. He says, 'The system of oppression and cruelty in dealing with the natives makes them curse the name of God and our holy religion.... For should God decree the destruction of Spain it may be seen it is because of our destruction of the Indians, and that His justice may be made apparent.'

"Well, I guess that will be all I will write out of the book. I was just thinking that what the Spaniards did in getting gold was something like what the white men are doing to-day in getting fur in this northern country. It never did look good to me.

"But though the Indians don't always remember everything they hear in church, I believe the Church is honester, whether it is the English Church or the Catholic, or any of them, because they haven't anything to get out of it, so far as I can see, and the traders have. I don't think I shall very much enjoy seeing fine furs worn by ladies in my own country after this--I know where they come from and what they cost. I wonder what Las Casas would say if he were here.

"A good many Scotchmen are through this northern country, and some Scandinavians. I read in a book by Mr. Stewart that you could tell the Scotchman even in a half-breed because he always says 'boy' and 'whatever' the way the Highlanders do--no matter how old you are a Highlander always calls you 'boy.' He says the Bishop of Saskatchewan had a half-breed boy working for him who always called him 'Boy my Lord.' That seems odd to me! And then about their saying 'whatever'--a Scotch half-breed said, 'We use it because we could not express ourselves without it whatever.' And then he said, 'Is it not correct whatever?' And after a while he said he could see no objection to that word whatever. A Highlander always says 'whatever,' and you can't keep him from it. I noticed that in some of the posts we came through.

"A woman here was sixty years old, and she married a carpenter, and he took her money and started a sawmill. They haven't got any sawmill now.

"A good many people here talk about other people. I have noticed that in almost any small place, but I think it is worse up here in the North. I suppose they get lonesome and have to talk.

"Another thing is, they drink so much up in this country whenever they get a chance. They don't keep their gallon of Scotch whisky, which is supposed to last them a year, but sit down and drink it up in two days. So they get out of whisky and some people get crazy for it. In this same book by Mr. Stewart he tells about some men at one of the trading-posts of the Mackenzie who didn't have any liquor, but the summer before there had been a party of scientists there who had left some insects, bugs, and snakes and things, done up in alcohol. Some other traders visited this agent, and he was sorry not to have anything to give them to drink. So he thought he would pour off this alcohol from the bugs and things. Still, he thought it might be poison, so he tried it on a half-breed dog-driver. It did not kill him, so he served it to his friends, and said nothing about it, and they all thought it was very good! I believe this is a true story, because so many things happen up in this country that we don't hear about at home.

"_Monday, August 11th._--This is on the steamship _Schwatka_, and we are bound up the Yukon! We said good-by early this morning to the good archdeacon. It was dark when he heard the dogs howling, and knew a boat was coming, so he called us and we hurried and got dressed, and just got on this boat in time. She isn't towing any barge, so ought to make good time up to Dawson. We were sorry to leave the archdeacon, but we are glad to be on our way home.

"We get four meals a day on the _Schwatka_, and very good ones. John is happy! We think we will all put on a little flesh before we get home. Uncle Dick is writing and going over his notes. John is making his map. Jesse is reading. So I write.