Gold Hunting in Alaska

by Joseph Grinnell

The doctor. Brownie. Uncle Jimmy and I had a hot argument to-day on capital punishment, also one on "how a young student should begin to specialize in any branch of study." I always take the side opposite the majority, so I can have more opportunity for argument. We have good and instructive times in this employment. Wednesday evening next is the first of a series of literary entertainments to be held weekly. Solsbury will lecture on "The Practical Value of Art."

Dec. 3.—This morning Harry Cox and Harry Reynolds started with Indian Tom up the Kowak. Tom was our guide on our first steamer trip across Holtham Inlet last summer, and he has been camping in the delta until now. He is on his way to the Par River, where his winter igloo is located. The Harrys took advantage of company to go along with Tom. They took a sled and two dogs, with just enough outfit to supply them on the trip. Their object is to visit the various camps up the river and find out all the news, especially in regard to the strike at the head of the Koyukuk. An Indian by the name of Shackle-belly visited us yesterday. He has just come down from the Kalamute River, about one hundred and fifty miles above us, and brings exciting news. He speaks pretty good English for a native. He said that he had heard that on the Alashook white men were as thick as mosquitoes and digging out "plenty gold." These men had come up the Koyukuk last summer from the Yukon with lots of steam launches. They could not get further up than one hundred and fifty miles below the place where the gold is found on the Alashook River, on account of the rapids, so they had to wait and sled up. Shackle-belly also said that most of the men above us on the Kowak had already started over.

Indian Tom and Family.

It will be very dangerous for these men now at twenty-nine degrees below zero, and it must grow much colder with more wind, up on those barren mountain passes between the heads of the Kowak and Alashook. The Indian said one man had already frozen to death on the trail this side, and one had fallen through a hole in the ice, getting out all right, but before he could build a fire he had frozen through. Several are frost-bitten. We are anxious about our six boys who started from the Upper Penelope Camp over three weeks ago. However, if they met with no accidents, they must be over into the valley of the Alashook by this time, where the natives tell us there is plenty of large timber. Tom tells us that seven Indians have died down the river, and that white men are very sick. Tom has his family with him and of course all his belongings, which seldom amount to much, according to our estimation of values, among these natives. He has two sleds and six dogs. He and his family spent the night with us. We spread tents for them on the floor. We have not been affected with vermin so far, and take precautions.

Windings of Squirrel River.

Last Wednesday was the first evening of the proposed literary society. Solsbury was to have been the lecturer of the night, but was sick and couldn't come. However, the society elected officers—Joseph Grinnell as president, and Dr. Coffin secretary. Then the doctor conducted a question box. Some of the questions asked and written on slips of paper, with the name of the man who was to answer, were very serious; others were humorous.

By the way, I must record a new pie which has fallen to the lot of the Penelope Camp. C. C. makes dozens of pie. We have pie every meal and between meals, and if a fellow gets hungry in the night when the rest are snoring, there is pie for his satisfaction. An old Eskimo woman from the village brought C. C. a pail of what she considered a rare delicacy, a gift expressive of her motherly consideration. It was a concoction of wild cranberries and seal oil.

It was suggestive to the natural bent of the cook's mind, and he made a pie of the stuff. We ate every bit of it—that is, three of us did; the rest wouldn't touch it. I ate my share, and must say that if you overlook the strong seal flavor, it would not be considered bad. I learned to eat cranberry done in oil when I was near Sitka three years ago. It is too extravagant a dish to be eaten every day, and the natives keep it, American-wise, "for company."