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.