KUTOROGE.

But our walking neared its end. At Neptani we arranged for a sledge and then started on, leaving it to overtake us. Just as we left the village, we overtook a hunting party on its way to the mountains for deer. The men of the party came from two or three different villages; they carried the guns, and led the dogs; the women carried the luggage. The dogs were like coyotes in size and form and some of them were brown-gray in color; there was, however, considerable range in color. They were strangers to one another and quarrelsome, and probably several days had to elapse before they became friendly. Having exchanged greetings with the hunters and photographed the group, we journeyed on. From here the country was more broken, the terrace slope being cut by lateral gorges, opening on the Saru, which was still to our left. Before long, we were overtaken by our sled, the driver of which was a typical young fellow of some twenty-two years, beardless, indeed, but with long hair hanging, from a central parting, down upon his shoulders. Before we reached the next village, we met a man from Okotnai, whither we were bound, who told us that the man, of whom we were in search, had gone hunting. This was a dash to our hopes, for we had counted on securing him for our group. He was no doubt already in the mountains beyond our reach and not likely to return for a fortnight or more. The hunting party which we had photographed was still in sight and their leader had greatly pleased us. Asking whether we cared for him, Mr. Batchelor called him back. He told him that we wished him, with his wife and child, to go with us to the United States; that he would be gone nine months; that he should go. A look of blank helplessness came over his face, but he replied that he would have to go, of course, if he said so. I now found for the first time—because the type is really very uniform, and all men of an age look alike—that he was the younger of the two men whom we had seen in the first home we visited in Upper Piratori—Kutoroge, the nephew of old Penri. This recognition recalled the older man and we suggested to Mr. Batchelor, the wish that he, too, might be secured. “Oh, yes, Kutoroge, the gentleman wants an old man, a graybeard, who knows how to make the arrow poison and to whittle the inao. Can you not find him such a man?” “Why, sir, there is my old father, you know! Would he not do? And really, if we must die, it is better that we should die together than separated.” “Oh, yes,” we answered, “so there is your father! Well, go back to your village, and tell him and make preparation, so that all may be ready when we come back to-morrow.” He agreed, but would have to go on to the next village to overtake his wife, who had gone on with the luggage, while we were talking. Thus a hunting party was left without its leader!

CROSSING A STREAM IN WINTER.

Passing Penakori, traveling through a fine hill district, for the most part wooded, near Porosaru, we came to a little stream which was open and which we had to cross by a dugout canoe. The ferryman was an old man, with fine hair and beard. He was dressed in native garments, which were old and worn. Though the weather was cold, his breast was uncovered and showed an unusually thick growth of body hair. The old man first poled us over, then brought our luggage and the box body of the sled. The driver, mounting the little horse, forded him across, dragging the runners. After we had reconstructed the sled and loaded in the baggage, we rode on through the forest, over the uneven terrace, until at last we descended to the Saru River. It was open, and projecting fringes of ice reached out from the shore over the water in a way that looked dangerous. However, we crept out on them, expecting them to break and let us into the water, to another canoe, poled this time by a strong, young ferryman. We crossed safely and crept out onto similar projecting ice fringes on the other side. Our driver tried to make a crossing at a ford higher up the river, but failed. Meantime we followed the river bottom for some little distance, over soft and water-soaked snow, that let us sink deeply every two or three steps; finally, however, we mounted to the low terrace where the walking improved and were soon in the village of Osatnai. From there it was but a fifteen-minutes’ walk to Okotnai, last of this group of Saru Ainu towns and the goal of our journey. From Tomakomai, where we left the railroad, we had traveled in the three days some eighteen ri, equal to about forty-five miles, distributed as shown in the following table of villages through which we passed:

Tomakomai,
Yubutsu,
Azuma,5 ri
Mukawa,
Sarabuto,
[2]Shumunkot,
[2]Nina,
[2]Lower Piratori,
[2]Upper Piratori,7 ri
[2]Neptani,
[2]Penakori,
[2]Porosaru,
[2]Osatnai,
Okotnai,6 ri
18 ri = about 45 miles.

It was just after noon when we arrived, going directly to Tunkamareg’s house. He had really gone hunting, but Charenga, his wife, was at home, and we were made welcome. Two families live in the house, each with two or three children. Tunkamareg and Charenga are both Ainu; the other man is Ainu, but his wife is Japanese and the little mongrel children were not much to my taste. We were cold and tired and hungry. The pot was boiling and we put some chicken that we had brought with us from Piratori in with the millet that the house supplied, and were soon eating our first Ainu meal. It was now snowing hard outside and we hugged the fire all the afternoon, while the villagers brought in all kinds of articles for sale. During the afternoon fresh venison was brought in and our evening stew was rice (secured somewhere, somehow) and deer-meat. It was interesting to watch the children of the two families quarrel over a deer-bone, fresh and bloody, which they took turns in sucking and in picking off shreds of raw meat. This house, though a true Ainu hut, is mission headquarters, and under outside influences a corner of it has been walled off into a sleeping room for Tunkamareg and his wife. This room Charenga surrendered to us for the night. In it was one of Mr. Batchelor’s little stoves, but it smoked badly; the night was cold and the room draughty, yet on the whole we were more comfortable when the fire went out. All night we suffered from the bitter cold.

TYPICAL AINU HOUSE: SHIRAOI.