USA > Alaska > Trailing and camping in Alaska > Part 12
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We descended to that remarkable place and camped among the trees, luxuriant bunch-grass and millions of mosquitoes. The mosquitoes were not
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counted-just conservatively estimated at that num- ber. As no horse-tracks were found, and as the Griffith party, from Cook Inlet, had passed south of that place the year before, it was evident that we were the discoverers of the source of twin rivers, an- other one of Alaska's curiosities. We spent three days exploring down the other fork, and found that it did pass back through the mountains to the Tan- ana. This water coming from one glacier on the side of a rough mountain range, and then separating half a mile below, was a peculiar freak. It made it pos- sible for a salmon to ascend the Copper, then the Gul- kana, through the lakes to this place, and then de- scend this river to the Tanana, Yukon and so on to Behring sea. It would cause him to hustle to arrive back at the mouth of the Copper in time for another season's run. As it would mean that he had crossed through two mountain ranges and traveled about six thousand miles to do that, it would require a fish with ambition to undertake the task. It is a fact that when we were there, a canoe could have been floated from the waters of the Copper to that of the Yukon.
Down this river, where it was joined by a larger one from the west, we found several old horse tracks, among them being one mule track. That solved the riddle! This was the Delta River, which Lieu- tenant Castner had descended the year before, on his way from the Cook Inlet to the Yukon. They had nearly starved, and had killed and eaten the
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mule which had made those tracks; and even then, they certainly would have perished if the Indians had not assisted them.
With due respect to Mr. Castner, it may be said that he was not the proper kind of a man to send on such a trip. His dictatorial manner caused the In- dians to disrespect him, and invited deception on their part. From his own report, it is a wonder that they did not destroy his party. Such leaders of expeditions only make it dangerous for the lone prospectors who are at the mercy of the natives.
We had run completely out of provisions, even salt, and were living on what birds we could kill. We returned by ascending the east fork, and about a mile south of the turn we camped by a lake. There the ptarmigan were cackling in the tall bunch-grass, and ducks were swimming on the quiet water. Down the beach of the lake came a brown silvertip grizzly; he would whine and fight mosquitoes, wade out into the lake, drop down into the water and then gallop out and shake himself, making the water fly in all directions from his shaggy coat.
I quietly slipped down to the shore of the outlet, which was about 100 feet wide, and secreted myself there, to await his coming down along the opposite shore. I desired to get his picture, for the light was just right, the lake scene was most beautiful and the spruce trees bordering it made the landscape all that could be desired. He came and stood just where
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I wanted him, but unfortunately the kodak had been broken during the day and it failed to snap. Fail- ing to get the picture, I decided to kill him and take the meat to Slate Creek, as the miners were in need of it and we had five loose horses with nothing to carry.
I gave him a mortal shot, one that would have caused a deer to make a few jumps and fall over dead. The ball ranged through the heart cavity, and shattered the liver into pieces. The bear sprang into the air, fell, rolled over and over, bit the bullet hole, and ran into some brush, which he fought with desperation.
Again he appeared on the beach of the outlet, where I gave him another shot, and the same per- formance was repeated. He fought the brush and rocks, and his squalls and growls were exceedingly loud. He ascended a knoll, stood on his hind feet and looked around, whereupon he received his last fatal shot, and rolled over-dead; thinking, no doubt, that those were the worst mosquitoes he had ever encountered.
We swam our horses across the outlet and vainly tried to procure a picture of him. We had lost the opportunity of a lifetime :- to get a picture of a grizzly bear before and after being killed.
The next day we loaded Bruin on our pack-horses and moved back towards Slate Creek. We camped on a clear stream emptying into what we named
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Summit Lake, on the east fork of the Gulkana. That stream was red with salmon, droves of them- for they could be driven-on every riffle. Just be- fore we concluded to camp, it had just been remarked that this was an ideal place for bear, when across the water with a plunge and a splash, and up the hillside with a gallop and a snort, bounded a huge grizzly. He stopped about one hundred yards away, and gazed down with the look of the supreme mon- arch that he was.
With a resolve to take all of the fresh meat that came our way, I sent a bullet crashing through his heart cavity. He fell, rolled and bellowed, then came for us like a whirlwind. Another ball en- tered between his shoulders and neck, and the per- formance was repeated. Again he came on, and a third shot shattered his neck, so that he piled up in a heap, just forty-three steps away.
My companion remarked that as there would only have been time enough to have got in one more shot, and as he had no gun, and we were fifteen miles from timber, it would have been interesting to know just what I had intended doing in case I had failed to kill the bear. After a little reflection, I made the resolve never to shoot a bear when he was look- ing at me. That resolution, however, was com- pletely broken about a month later. We camped right there and dined on speckled trout in preference to bear or salmon.
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While my companion was looking for the horses the next morning, he killed something, which he said, if it were not for its horns, he would have called a mule. Investigation proved it to be a fat caribou. The meat of a two-year-old caribou is about the sweetest, tenderest and most toothsome of all the wild animals.
In possession of all the meat we desired, we started for Slate Creek. The salmon were so plentiful that the temptation to kill a few of them could not be resisted. I shot four, and tied them to my saddle- strings. Their tails reached down to my horse's flanks, and soon they began to flop. It appeared to me that the saddle-horse bucked over forty acres of ground, while our little dog Pete seemed to enjoy the show more than anybody.
The joke was turned on him shortly afterwards, however, when a bear was seen standing on a nar- row island in the middle of the stream, eating sal- mon. As the water was making a great noise, and the wind was squarely across the river, neither bear nor dog knew of the other's presence until a collision was on. Pete fell backwards and jumped off into the water, while the bear plunged in on the other side. When Pete struck the water he was looking back towards the bear. Later, when we were in camp, he showed almost human humiliation, when being joked about that bear incident.
We arrived at Slate Creek, after a cold ride, in a
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drenching rain. There I employed another com- panion to assist in exploring the head-waters of the Tanana. Our supplies, which had been cached under the shelter of some large spruce trees, at Mencomen Lake, were undisturbed. Many times have I slept on the dry ground beneath the boughs of a spruce tree, while it rained outside.
At Mentasta Lake there came into camp an Indian boy, who said he had never worn shoes or even moccasins. When asked what he would do when the snow came, he replied:
" Go all same-no shoes."
" But hiyu snow, may-be-so you die ! "
" Ha-lo! Bear he no got shoes, he no die."
This boy described for us the trail to Suslota, and following it we nearly drowned a horse. From Sus- lota we crossed to the head-waters of Little Tokio River, thence over high glacier moraines at the head-waters of the Hoolana. This was the place Captain West had told his men he had found his gold ;- the mud-glaciers are here as he described, but not the gold. We crossed these to the head of Lost Creek sometimes called Jack Creek.
At the source of Little Tokio I picked from a bank of what appeared to be slate a short rib of some large animal. In its petrified condition, it had retained its shape and grain, although the substance was a hard, slatish material. I retain that curiosity in my possession, and no one can dispute the fact
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that it was once a rib-bone of some animal. How long it took for the lime to dissolve, and the struc- ture to absorb the earthy matter, no one can say.
Rock, like everything else on earth, grows, lives and dies. I once knew of a rock when it was a bunch of clay on a bar of the Santa Maria River in Cali- fornia, for it had been deposited there during a freshet in 1884. Evidently it contained the ele- ments that enabled it to solidify rapidly, for in four- teen years it had become a hard, solid sandstone.
I had a friend whose great hobby was geology, and he was so affected by the study that he would daydream about it, talking for hours about the dif- ferent ages. I furnished the team for his company for a twenty-five-mile drive, just to hear him dilate on that rock. I admired him because he knew more than most other people. He looked wise as he ap- proached the monument when it was pointed out, and the longer he looked, the wiser he appeared. After he had broken off a piece, he gave me the startling information that it was not Potsdam sand- stone. Now I didn't know Potsdam sandstone from any other dam sandstone, but he continued to employ unlimited profanity of the character indicated while dilating about that rock. He displayed so much wisdom that it required an effort for me to ask the important question which I had come so far to pro- pound.
When he had finished the lecture, I asked timidly
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about the age of it, and he gave it unhesitatingly as several thousands of years! There-I had known of that rock from the time it was a soft mass through which one could run a sharp stick, or could cut down with a hatchet in two minutes.
I was speechless ! Reincarnation had been proved, for evidently I had lived thousands of years before, and what I had seen and forgotten was beyond comprehension !
We descended Jack Creek and found an abun- dance of good feed for our horses. Sheep trails could be seen on the mountain sides. This creek empties into the Nabesna, a tributary of the Tanana River.
We were riding down along the bank of that stream in a leisurely fashion when we discovered a grizzly cub approaching in the creek bottom. While hiding until he had become directly below, about thirty feet away, I was surprised by a snort from another, on top of the bank and only a few yards from me. He ran and was not shot at, because it was supposed that the other one was at a greater disadvantage below. On looking over the bank, we discovered that he had heard the warning snort of his companion, and was now three hundred yards away and running his very best. We had no bear meat for that night's supper.
I spent the next day, August 27, in securing two mountain goats. Our supplies were running short, and it was necessary to have fresh meat. Fifteen
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were taking their noon-day rest on the summit of a high ridge, where it was difficult to distinguish them from the small patches of snow in their vicinity.
With Pete at my heels I crept for half a day along the high precipices, and at last peeped over one of them, only to discover that the goats were out of range, and commanding a good view of their sur- roundings. Straight across a deep chasm were three that had ventured away from the rest to feed. They were two hundred and fifty yards away, at least, and under ordinary circumstances it would be foolish to try for them at such a great distance, but we were out of meat.
If a ball struck below them, they would dodge over the ridge and be out of sight before another shot could be placed intelligently. If shots were placed above them, they would probably remain until the range was found. That plan was worked for three shots, dropping a little lower each time, and the third shot tumbled one of them over. The fourth shot caught another as he was crossing the ridge. The afternoon was spent rolling those goats down to the foot of the mountain, where Dashiell came and assisted in carrying them into camp.
We moved down to timber, in the divide between the Copper and the Nabesna Rivers, and camped by a beautiful lake. There my brother made " jerkey " and dressed skins, while Dashiell and I explored to the Nabesna River.
CHAPTER XVII
A grizzly bear's rapid approach, with blood streaming from his mouth, jaws clapping, and nostrils snorting, gen- erally acts as a powerful stimulant to the body of a man.
ON September 3, 1900, when my body was walking about seventy yards in front of the pack- train (my thoughts were down in the States, and I was in a half-witted mood), a brown silvertip grizzly rushed up out of the small creek. He as- cended the mountain-side, stopped about one hundred and thirty yards away and turned broadside. There was but one load in my 44, and we were not in the need of bear meat, but in my heedless, mental aban- don, I deliberately placed a hard bullet behind his shoulders.
He rolled over, bawled, and performed the other usual preliminaries, and then turned his attention in my direction at a rate that indicated a final settle- ment in about nine seconds. When I twice snapped my revolver, the truthfulness as well as the awful- ness of my mistake dawned-no, it broke in upon me with startling suddenness. I desired very much to explain and apologize, but as that bear was half- way down the hill, and his jaw-clapping indicated a ruffled disposition, my legs positively refused to re-
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main there; and besides, I felt that they needed ex- ercising.
At once I discovered that I was a remarkably good starter in a foot race. My hat was left where it indicated the starting-place very accurately, and I should not have stopped to pick it up if it had been filled with gold. I directed my course for the Na- besna River, about fourteen miles away, and planned to run by the pack-train so that my partner would know the direction I was traveling, and so also that he might cover the retreat with his 30-30 rifle. There were no trees to climb and I had no time to climb one even if a hundred had been there. I made several steps in the air to one on the ground, because I was trying to make schedule time, and had the brakes off and full steam turned on. All the re- served energy that had been stored for years made itself manifest on that particular occasion.
There was an open flat about six jumps ahead of me-a distance that is much greater than the reader may imagine-and I felt intuitively that right there the bear would familiarize himself with the seat of my trousers. As the bear was running at an angle which would head me off at that point, and as I was interested in the outcome, I glanced over my shoulder to see just how it was going to be done. I then for- tunately observed that just before reaching the place of collision I should pass a small bunch of brush, and for a moment we should be out of sight of each
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other. Right there, I jumped my train off the track and rolled it down an embankment, while the bear punctually arrived at the flat, only a few yards away.
After pointing his nose upward and emitting a loud snort, be became interested in the unusual sight of the pack-train. I bravely held my breath so as not to disturb his meditations, and when he again snorted, my heart acted rudely and I shrank up per- ceptibly. Vainly I listened for the report of that 30-30, but the bear shuffled safely away, leaving a bloody trail up a rocky canyon. Then I straightened up and walked to Dashiell and inquired why he hadn't shot. Between spasms of laughter, he re- plied :
" Hang it all, it wasn't my bear-fight !"
It generally is supposed that a bear will give chase for only a few jumps, but when the Pacific Coast grizzly bear sees you, and knows you have hurt him, I know that he will come as far as 150 yards. To satisfy some hunters who claimed that a bear would charge but a very short distance, Mr. Dashiell made his affidavit concerning the distance that this bear gave chase, and it was published afterwards in an eastern magazine.
The older a hunter becomes, the more respect he has for grizzlies. In a lonely canyon, in California, in 1884, I stood in front of a grizzly for one short round. With one stroke he separated me from my memory, then counted me out and walked away. If
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ever again I enter a twenty-foot ring with a grizzly, I want some kind friend to bet all of my money on the bear.
We arrived at the Nabesna River on September I, and there, at an old camp-ground, we found a grave having the headboard carved with the name of John Stehn, of Benicia, California. The cir- cumstances surrounding that fatality may be of in- terest.
In the spring of 1899, some prospectors had sledded into that place, and there had built a boat for the descent of the Tanana River. They were throwing their bedding into the boat, when a re- volver, which had been placed carelessly in a clothes- bag with the hammer on a cartridge, was discharged. The ball struck John Stehn in the neck, and in a few minutes he had bled to death.
Of course it makes no difference to the dead where they are buried, but it is not consoling to the dying prospector, away in the wilds of Alaska-with no mother, sister or loved one to smooth his brow-to know that only the night birds and little squirrels of summer, and the bleak winds of winter are to visit his resting-place. No wreaths will be laid there, but the near-by spruce will moan a lonely requiem to the dead.
Where the winter winds wail And the sad spruce trees moan, At the end of his trail There, he sleeps all alone.
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The prospectors continued their journey down to the Indian village of Tetling, where the little son of the chief was given the same deadly revolver. The little fellow dropped it, and again it was discharged, but this time his mother dropped dead. The man who had given the weapon to the boy made his escape during the excitement, but the Indians searched everywhere for him, and to this day, if they could find him, his life would pay the forfeit. Park Gris- wald and two other prospectors whip-sawed the lum- ber, and with their tools made a crude coffin, consol- ing the chief thereby, and insuring their own safety.
At the source of the Nabesna River were some nuggets of native copper, and in places there were large porous boulders with small holes, showing where the metal had evidently been melted from them. The pumice stone found, indicated that at one time volcanic heat had been excessive in that locality. Moreover, a considerable quantity of vol- canic ashes from the crater of Wrangell, had been spread over the country recently by the wind. This Wrangell (Unaletta) crater is a geyser-covered area where the melting snows send their water down into the internal heat to return it as steam jets that float off upon the wind as clouds of vapor. Not always is it thus, however ; at times, great volumes of smoke are sent heavenward, accompanied by white, light ashes that the winds scatter over the upper valleys of the Tanana, White and Copper Rivers.
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It was now time that we were taking our horses out of the high altitudes, so we returned to " Goat Camp," on the divide. From the outlet of the lake on the summit, Dashiell caught a great number of trout. There we experienced the first snow-fall of the season. In 1898 it fell on September 12, in 1899, on September 14, and this year on Septem- ber 5. Those first snows disappear, usually, in twenty-four hours.
We traveled a northwesterly direction towards Suslota Lake, along the foot of the mountain range where Lake Tanada could be seen to the westward. From that point we could look down on the Copper Valley, with its silvery threads of water, its medals of lakes, and its golden badges of cottonwood, quak- ing asp and birch. We traveled along birch ridges where magpies flew ahead and announced our com- ing, just as the bluejays do in the forests of the south. Occasionally a moose or bear track was seen, but large game was scarce. The hillsides were cov- ered with moss berries. The manzanita (little ap- ple), which grows twelve feet high in California, was here only a moss, but the berries were just as large as in the southern climes. The juniper, used for fence-posts in other places, had also degenerated here into a moss from which possibly toothpicks could be cut, although the berries also were of the usual size.
We arrived at Suslota Lake on the fifth day after
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we left the divide. The outlet of that lake was a wiggling mass of salmon. This lake has derived its name from a family of Indians by the name of Sus- lota. They may have descended possibly from the Ainus of Japan, as they differ from the other Indians by wearing heavy beards. They have bushy hair, are very tall and most intelligent. They possess no family history, only that they were different from the other Indians. Suslota John, who lives at that lake, and Eselota, who lives one hundred miles down the Copper River, at the mouth of the Tonsina, are the only men now living of that wonderful tribe. Each of these men is six feet tall. Eselota had come up there eight years before, and, although sixty years old, had married a fifteen-year-old granddaughter of Suslota. The picture here represents Eselota and his family. His wife, the granddaughter of Suslota John, stands at his right, with their little girl in front. The one at his left is a daughter by his first wife.
Chief Ewan, of the Gulkanas, told me that his father said the Suslotas once talked a different lan- guage. He said Mentasta John was a half-Suslota Indian, and that Chief Stickman's first wife was also half-Suslota. Younger Indians, however, laugh at the idea, and think they are the same Indians as the others. Suslota John told me that he was born on the shore of this lake, as was his father, and also his grandfather. He married a Tanana squaw, and
-
MyMIKS
Eselota and His Family.
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had seventeen children and grandchildren. These Indians make a strong bow they call " chingah " (rabbit gun). A young Indian, Snelkettin, while we were there, killed a bear with one of these bows. He secreted himself beside the trail, and when the bear came along, he planted several of the copper- pointed arrows near the heart.
When at Slate Creek I had attempted to send a worthless horse out to the chief packer, who was at Copper Center, but the man, instead of shooting the beast when he became exhausted, according to mili- tary rule, abandoned the old " crow-bait," so that the Board of Survey, at Fort Liscum, sat on that horse- his absence or something-and because I could not swear that he was dead, very dignifiedly charged me eighty dollars for him. I did not need a horse, espe- cially that one, and never thought, when watching that antiquated equine deception fade in the distance, that I should have to pay that price for his carcass, with the sole purpose of filling space in Alaska's atmosphere. No doubt, at the time of that purchase, the drifting snow-flakes were playing hide-and-seek among his ribs, but then, was I not the proud owner of a horse? Now, I feel it most fortunate that I did not buy a good horse, for, at that rate, he would have cost me a few thousand dollars-that is, a com- monly good one would-for an extra good one would have cost much more. I am satisfied, however, with the shadow I bought. That incident caused the alli-
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gator to rise in me, but time has poulticed the sore place, and I am satisfied.
I had at that time proved that the Alaskan Range carried in its fastnesses about all of the different kinds of minerals in the catalogue. Although I had been handicapped by attending to my duties as a scout I had gathered many samples of ore. One of these assayed 15 per cent. copper and $55 in gold per ton. Another $29, $30 and $32 in gold, lead and silver. One extra sample of nearly pure silver was obtained near what is known as Cobb Lake. Cinnebar and graphite were found, and also a few small ledges of free milling gold ore. The inaccessi- bility of their locations make them valueless at the present time.
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