According to all indications the stone culture of Bonasila and of Ghost Creek (1½ miles upstream from Holy Cross) were related, both passing apparently into the Russian period, and that at Ghost Creek continuing down to our times, for there is still living here an old man who belongs to this place which once had a large village. Much could be done yet and saved in both places.
Saturday, July 3. At last slept, notwithstanding everything, and succeeded even in being warm.
Breakfast 8.30, for a wonder. Two soft-boiled Seattle eggs, two bits of toast with canned butter (not bad at all), some over-preserved raspberries, and a faded-looking nearly cold "flapjack" with sirup, also mediocre tea. But all goes here, and the stomach calls for no other attention than to fill it.
Finishing work, getting further information from the old Indian, writing, and waiting to go away with a trader to Paimute, the first all-Eskimo village, 25 miles farther down the river. Rains occasionally, but not very cold. Many gnats when wind moderates.
Lunch—canned sardines (in this land of fresh salmon!), a bit of toast, some canned fruit, and that unsavory tea.
Have utilized this day in a profitable manner. Have learned that there was another burial ground about half a mile farther upstream, behind an elevation. So got a rowboat and with Jim Walker's young boy rowed over. Had to wade through high grass over a wet flat, and then up the rank grass and bush-covered slope, and there found a number of old burials. All rifled, but most of the bones still there. So send boy back, on the quiet—there is above the store the camp of the old man with an old Indian woman and sick girl—for some boxes, and meanwhile collect. It is an unceasing struggle with the mosquitoes and gnats in the tall grass and weeds; but one after another I find what remains of the usual old box burials. The bones are mostly in good condition. The boy arrives with several empty gasoline boxes, we gather drier grass and moss, and pack right on the spot, eventually get to the boat, strike off as far as possible from the shore so none could see what is carried, and proceed to Walker's storehouse. Old Indian and his old crony nevertheless stand on bank and look long at us. In storehouse boxes closed, later delivered by the boy to the mail boat, and so that much is saved; for were it not collected, in a few years the weather, vegetation, and animals, human and other, would destroy everything.
BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY FORTY-SIXTH ANNUAL REPORT PLATE 3
a, Midnight on the Yukon
