A half-hour afterward we passed the mouth of the Che-taut, a fair-sized stream coming in from the north. Near this point and for some distance beyond, we saw a number of old Indian signs, such as graves, habitations and caches, but the only living representatives of the tribe were the three sleepers we had seen a few miles back. Numbers of large wicker fish-traps were seen along the beach, none of which, however, were set; and, in general, an air of desolation prevailed. As soon as the early cold snaps of approaching winter along the Arctic coast of Alaska send the reindeer southward on their migrations, these Nimrods of the river hasten northward to meet them, for their skins furnish most acceptable winter clothing, and their meat is a welcome change from the dried salmon of the river. About six o'clock we saw a fair-looking Indian log-house on the right bank of the river, having a barrabora (Russian name for log-cabin, half or nearly underground, the "dug-out" of the West), and cache attached. All of the Indian caches of the lower ramparts, and even further down the river until the Eskimo are encountered, are merely diminutive log-cabins from about four by four to eight by eight, mounted on corner logs so high that one can walk underneath the floor, which is generally made of poles or puncheons. A steep log leans against the door-sill and is cut into steps, to enable the owner to ascend (see initial piece to this chapter). The owner of this particular cabin had displayed much more than the usual energy in the construction of his domicile, there actually being a fence inclosing a small yard on one side of the house, and wooden steps leading up the steep bank from the water's edge to the little plateau upon which the cabin was built. These were roughly but ingeniously constructed of small, short lengths of log, the upper sides being leveled with an adze or ax.
We camped at 8:30 P.M. near several Indian graves, about a mile or two above the mouth of the Whymper River, which comes in from the left, and just on the upper boundary of the conspicuous valley of that stream. There were quite a number of graves at this point, forming the first and only burying place we saw on the river that might be called a family graveyard, i.e., a spot where a number, say six or seven, were buried in a row within a single inclosure. From its posts at the corners and sides were the usual totems and old rags flying, two of the carvings representing, I think, a duck and a bear respectively, while the others could not be made out. We had heard, in an imperfect way, on the upper river, that some disease was raging among the natives on the lower part, and that whole villages had been swept away and bodies left unburied, but this proved to be wholly sensational. A mild form of measles had indeed attacked a small town, causing one or two deaths, but this was the only foundation we could find for the report. The Yukon River, however, is a great thoroughfare for contagious disease, and maladies raging among the Chilkats have been known to travel its whole course as rapidly as we had done, and from the river as a base had spread right and left among the native tribes, until the cold weather of approaching winter subdued them, if they were amenable to the influence of temperature. I have never heard of any returning against the stream, but instances of their descending it are not infrequent. Dr. Wilson tried to get a skull out of the many we assumed were at hand, to send to the Army Museum's large craniological collection, but although several very old-looking sites were opened, the skulls were too fresh to be properly prepared in the brief time at our disposal.
The most welcome change in this hilly country is the diminishing of the gnats and mosquitoes into quite endurable numbers. We found several varieties of berries near this camp, one or two of which were quite palatable; the crisp rosebuds still continuing to appear, although perhaps they were not so large as those we found near old Fort Yukon.
These lower ramparts so closely resemble the ramparts of the Upper Yukon in many particulars that the conviction seemed irresistible that they are one and the same chain of mountains, and if I may be excused the simile, are stretched like a bow-string across the great arc of the Yukon, as it bends northward into the Arctic flat-lands, which latter beyond the timber line become the great Arctic tundra.
The night of August 3d was very cold, only a few degrees above freezing, and besides the chance it gave us for a most comfortable night's rest, it stiffened up the few mosquitoes of the evening before so completely that they had to suspend operations altogether. Just before starting Corporal Shircliff killed a large porcupine near camp, an animal said to be quite numerous along the river, and so abundant in the flat-lands near Fort Yukon as to attach his name to the large tributary which joins the river at that point. It was nearly eight o'clock when we started, and after a mile's drifting we passed the mouth of the Whymper River, which we could not see until after we had got well past it. Its valley, however, is quite noticeable, and one would immediately conjecture that a river of considerable dimensions flowed through it.
A somewhat ludicrous incident took place at a short distance below this point. As we were drifting along a couple of wolves came trotting leisurely around a point of land just ahead of us, and the corporal and the cook picking up their rifles began firing at them with the usual fatal results—to the ammunition—the wolves simply snapping at each shot as it was fired, but not apparently increasing their pace, though they were but seventy-five or a hundred yards away. After fully half a dozen shots had been discharged as fast as the two could load and fire, an Indian house broke unexpectedly into view around the point from which the wolves had come, and in one breath two or three of the amused spectators called out to the sportsmen that they were firing at Indian dogs, as was proved by the tameness of the animals and their proximity to the house; whereupon I told the men to desist. The funny thing was that they really were wolves, and the two men had fired so rapidly and the bullets had struck the bank and torn out the gravel just beyond the animals so fast that all their attention was absorbed in that direction and thus they did not observe us, the reports of the shots and the echoes of the impacts being so confusing. The moment we ceased and they heard our voices and got one look at us out on the river the rapidity with which they sought the woods, left no doubt as to their species. The Indian house and surroundings were deserted and the wolves had been smelling around and investigating some old animal refuse near by.
THE RAPIDS OF THE LOWER RAMPARTS.
(Looking down stream.)