June 19. With dogs barking and whining and Indians singing, got little rest. All Indians sleep until afternoon. No chance of doing anything, so go down to town to get instruments and blanks. Find that storekeeper has an old stone ax—sells it to me for $1. Also tells of a farmer who has one—go there with the boat and obtain it as a gift; told of another one—a Finn—has two, sells them for $1. Come from the gravelly bank of the river or are dug out in gardening. There may well have been old settlements in this favorable location. After return, visit some tents to see sick. Much sickness—eyes, tuberculosis—now and then probably syphilis.
Indians relatively civilized, more than expected, and most speak tolerable English. Have flags, guns, sleep in some cases on iron beds and under mosquito netting, smoke cigarettes and cigars; and even play fiddles. Of course some have also learned the white man's cupidity and vices.
This day I met with something unexpected, due to perversity of mix-breed nature. Seeing so many Indians present, and after a good reception by them the evening preceding, I thought of utilizing the occasion for taking some measurements. I therefore mentioned the thing to some of the head men shortly after my arrival and receiving what seemed assent, went to-day to Tanana to get my instruments. On coming back and finding a few of the old men, who were quite friendly, I invited them into the "kashim" (community house) and began to question them on old sites, etc., when in came, probably somewhat under the influence of liquor, a mix-breed to whom I had been introduced the night before and who at that time acted quite civilly, but now coming forward began rather loudly and offensively to question about what I wanted here and about authority, giving me to understand at last quite plainly that he wanted to "be paid" if I was to take any measurements. He claimed to be one of the "chiefs," and I would not be allowed to do anything without his help. His harangue quite disturbed the other Indians, who evidently were both ashamed and afraid of the fellow. And as I would not be coerced into employing and paying him, and there being no one, as I learned, of supreme authority, the "chief" of these Indians being little more than a figurehead, it was decided to give up the attempt at measurements. The rest of the visit was therefore given to further observations and to the witnessing of the potlatch. Chief Joseph (pl. 14), nominally the head of these Yukon Indians, expressed his sorrow and tried to make amends by offering himself.
The potlatch was evidently in the main a social gathering of the Yukon Indians, with the Tanana natives as visitors. It consisted mainly of eating, singing, and dancing, to be terminated by a big "give-away." This latter was witnessed. It proved a disappointing and rather senseless affair. The whole transaction consists in the buying and gathering, and on this occasion giving away, of all sorts of objects, by some one, or several, who have lost a husband, wife, mother, etc., during the preceding year. The possessions of the deceased are included in this and doubtless often transmit disease. All the color of the observance is now gone. The goods—blankets, clothing, fabrics, guns, and many other objects, even pieces of furniture, trunks, or stoves—are gathered in the open and when the time comes are one after another selected by those dispensing and brought to this or that man or woman of those who have gathered around. No song, no ceremony, no talks, no thanking, no "wake" following. Just a poor shadow of something that formerly may have been a tragic, memorable, and meaning occasion.
Returned to Tanana near 10 p. m. and found lodging with a storekeeper who kept a "hotel." Got a big room, big bed, and when store closed was alone in the house, the storekeeper sleeping elsewhere.
June 20. But, Alaska was evidently not made for sleepers. Had not a wink until after 3 a. m.—daylight, people talking loud and walking on the board walk outside, and heard so clearly in my room—loud-laughing girls, the dogs, and at last another boat with its siren; and every now and then a singing mosquito trying to get at me through even the small opening left under the sheet for breathing—there being no netting. Finally doze off, to wake near 9 a. m., but everything closed, deadlike. However, go to a little frame house for breakfast, and in waiting until it is made find myself with two elderly men who go to-day down the river with their boats. One is a former store clerk, etc., and now an "optician"—peddles eyeglasses down the river; the other was a prospector, miner, and blacksmith, now an itinerant "jeweler" and a reputed "hootch" peddler. As the latter—otherwise a pretty good fellow—has a good-sized though old boat, arrange to go down with him. See the marshal, storekeeper, settle with my hotel man (had to go at 11 to awake him), and ready to start.
The outfit is largely homemade, not imposing, old, unpainted, and unfit for the rough—but it could be worse. It consists of a scow, a low, flat-bottomed boat, partly covered with canvas roof on birch hoops, in which Peake (the owner) carries fresh meat to some one, a stove, dishes, bedding, and many other things; and the motor boat proper, in which there is little room except for the machine and its tender. The latter sits on a soap box; I, on a seat extemporized from a cylindrical piece of firewood with a little board across it, with my two boxes and bedding within easy reach. Sit in front of the scow, except when driven back by spray. But our motor works and so we start quite well at some time after 11. The arrangement is to stop at every white man's camp or settlement down to Ruby. I could have gone on a better boat with its owner, but they charge here $15 a day, with "keep," and twice the amount for the return of the man and the boat, which is beyond my resources.
Tanana—Ruby. The river is clearer than the Tanana, and much broader. It is a great fine stream and its shores, while mostly still low on the left, on the right rise here and there into moderate loess bluffs, far beyond which are seen higher elevations and bluish forested mountains. All covered with poplar and spruce.
2.15 p. m. Wind has so increased that the scow bumps and squeaks and there is danger of opening its seams. Therefore side to the beach and make lunch—a roast of fat pork, over-salted, canned spinach, dry bread, and black coffee. All on a simple, old, but efficient little stove in the boat. Our companion, the oculist, rides not with us but in a nice little green canoe with a plaything of a gasoline motor fastened to the backboard, but we all eat and sleep together.