11.00 a. m. Another isolated little graveyard, right slope, near an old camp.
There is no possibility now of excavating any of these graveyards, for the Indians are in unpleasant disposition toward the Government for various reasons. But such a place as that near Burchell's could be excavated as soon as conditions improve. Also that above Ruby and another opposite and just below Ruby. There are no longer any superstructures left at these (or but traces), and the graves, as seen above Ruby, are near (within 2 feet of) the surface.
No trace or indication of anything older than the double-grooved ax culture has thus far been seen anywhere in the valley; and large stretches of present banks are quite barren.
As we approach Nulato the horizon before us becomes hilly and mountainous. The sun is now fully out and its warmth is very pleasant. Pass an Indian woman paddling a canoe; later an Indian family going upstream in a motor boat. Most of these Indians possess a motor boat of some sort, and know how to run it, though it is not in their nature to be overcareful.
Nulato
(Pl. 1, b)
Arrive midday. Quite a village, as usual along the water front on a high bank. Large fancy modern surface burial ground with brightly painted boxes and flying flags on a hill to the right. Met by local marshal and doctor; my things are taken to a little hospital. Natives here have poor reputation, but now said to be better. Boys nearly all mix bloods. Several men and women show Eskimo type, but majority are Indian to somewhat Eskimoid. Soon find they are not very well disposed—want pay for everything, and much pay. Have a few specimens, but to obtain anything from them is difficult. Have been spoiled.
A visit with the marshal to the site of old Nulato on the proximate point; nothing there, just a rabbit's skull and a lot of mosquitoes. Photograph old graveyard (that of old Nulato), on the distal point beyond the creek.
Mr. Steinhauser, trader, of Czech descent, helpful and kind. But nothing further to do here. Steamer that was to be here to-night or to-morrow will not arrive, just learned, until Tuesday (this is Friday); and so must engage a little gasoline boat to the next station, Kaltag, 40 miles down the river.
Sleep under my new netting in the hospital. In the morning, after parting with doctor and marshal, start 8.30 a. m. Boat little, shaky, run by a half-breed boy of about 18. My old scow with Peake and his companion will stay a day longer. Partly cloudy, warm.
Pass flats, and come again to similar shaved-off bluffs like yesterday. We are now running close to the shore so that I can see everything. Flowers, but not many or many varieties.