2 p. m. About 2 p. m. go to the cemetery. About a dozen burials recognizable. A pest of mosquitoes and gnats—Lawrence soon bleeds over face and neck, while I keep them off only by frequent smearing. He soon has to smear, too. Open five graves—placed above ground, wooden (split and no nails) boxes covered with earth and sod. Skeletons all in contracted position, head to the east and lying on right side. Some in poor condition. Three women, one man, one child. Gnats swarm in the moss and the graves, and with the smears, here and there a trickle of blood, the killed pests and the dust, we soon look lovely. But there is enough of interest. With each burial appears something—with the man two large blue Russian beads; first woman—a pottery lamp (or dish), iron knife; with the second two fire sticks, stone objects (sharpeners), partly decayed clay dish; with the third, a Russian bead and a birch-bark snuffbox; with the child a "killed" (?) glass bottle of old form and an iron flask; in the grave of an infant (bones gone) a Russian bead. A grave of a child—bones burned.
6.15 p. m. Rest must be left. Lawrence may be enabled to do some work in the fall. Leave 6.15; carry quite a lot—in sacks, gasoline cans, lard cans. Wonder how I shall be able to send things from Holy Cross, and what next. Cool, sky overcast whole day.
Holy Cross
Thursday, July 1. Slept on the floor of a little store last night at Ghost Creek. The Catholic mission at Holy Cross, with all sorts of room, about 1½ miles down, and where, though late and tired, I visited Father Jules Jetté, a renowned student of the dialects of the Yukon Indians, did not offer to accommodate me, and the trader in their village could only offer me a "bunk" in one little room with three other people. So after 10 p. m. we went down to the "Ghost Creek," where I was gladly given a little corner in the store of Alec Richardson. Of course there were whining dogs outside, right next to the store on both sides, and they sang at times (or howled) like wolves, whose blood they seem to carry. And a cat got closed in with me and was pulling dried fish about, which she chewed, most of the night it seemed. So there was not much sleep until from about 5 a. m. to 8.30, after the cat was chased out and the dogs got weary. Then no breakfast till near 9.30.
Went to mission again to see Father Jetté—he is not of the mission—a fine old Frenchman and scholar. He was not responsible for last night and anyway I was spoiled farther up the river. His meritorious work deserves to be known and published.
After a very simple lunch packed yesterday's collections from the Bonasila site—five boxes. The parcel post here alone will cost $20.40. How odd that the transportation of the collections of a Government institution must be paid for from the little appropriation received for scientific work to another department of the same Government.
It is cloudy, drizzly, cold. Am endeavoring to leave to-morrow, but they want $35 to the next station, and the boat does not leave for St. Michael until the 11th. Fortunately I am able to send away the collections, and there will surely be some way down the river.
Ghost Creek
July 1-2, 10.30 p. m. A night on the Yukon. (Pl. 3, a,) They have lit a powder against the mosquitoes. Smear the many gnat bites with Mentholatum—helps but for a while—and having now my fine meshed netting, my own bedding, and a clean pillow, I feel fine, safe from all the pests, and ready for a quiet night, all alone.