April 19, Wednesday. 9 p. m.—Two men came in from Ambler City to-day with frozen feet. We rubbed the frost pretty well out with snow, but they will be laid up for a month and one of them may lose his toes. The nights are cold, fifteen to twenty degrees below zero. By noon it is thawing. A man's socks and boots become soaked with perspiration and, as the afternoon advances, the temperature falls and the wet footgear freezes. Then, too, in many places the river ice cracks and the water flows up through and soaks into the snow so that a traveler steps through into the slush and water deep enough to fill his shoes. Before camp is reached the feet freeze. The Cape Nome excitement is spreading and many are starting overland with light loads for the new diggings. Our neighbors of the Iowa cabin are getting ready and eight will start to-morrow. None of us here feel called upon to attempt the trip.
We have received news through other channels than the one mentioned in regard to the Cape Nome district. It looks more hopeful. Captain Ingraham, who was up the Kowak last tall, is on the grounds, and has staked several claims. He took $158 out of three prospect pans. Hundreds of men are rushing into the country. There are fights over claims and two men are shot. Miller returned from Ambler City Monday with eight ptarmigan. We have put up the skins in fine shape.
Looking Northward.
April 22. Saturday.—It is snowing heavily morning, with a strong north gale. The
doctor went down to the Hanson Camp yesterday, expecting to return to-day, but he hasn't arrived yet. I feel anxious about him, it is so easy to get lost. This cold will put a stop for a while to the Camp Nome procession. Men have been passing down the river every day, and we have lots of visitors for meals and to stay all night. John Miller, the man with the frozen feet, is still with us and probably will be, for he has no other place to go. His feet are in bad shape; great blisters run across them, and he suffers. Dr. Gleaves is back from his trip to the Agnes Boyd Camp, and is about starting for Cape Nome. It is very interesting and amusing to those who stay at home to note the efforts and trials of the poor people toiling along the trail. Most of them start out with two or three hundred pounds apiece, but they lighten their load each day until it is reduced to one hundred and fifty pounds. I am convinced myself, from what the Eskimos tell us, that it is useless to start for Cape Nome now. It will thaw before half the distance is covered. By the route generally traveled it is about four hundred miles from here. Yesterday a snow-flake came hopping about the woodpile on the sunny side of the cabin—the first arrival from the South. It spends the winter as far south as the northern tier of the United States, where it is the familiar snow-bird.
A man up the river sent down the left hind foot of a "snowshoe rabbit" to be stuffed. He had the tendons pulled apart so that by pulling on them the toes were moved. He wants the foot preserved in some way so that this mechanism will remain and the toes move by pulling an invisible string. Don't know as I can do it.
April 25.—We finished putting up our ptarmigan yesterday and have more on hand now. The past few days are warm, with southeast winds. I started out this morning but found the snow too sticky and soft. It clings to the snowshoes like lead weights. It is uncomfortably warm.
We think the main part of the Cape Nome rush has passed us. Several went by this forenoon from as far up as the Riley Camp. Saturday night at ten o'clock two fellows got in from Ambler City. The boys had all retired but Miller and me, so we got them their supper. They had come thirty miles that day, pulling a sled, and were nearly ready to drop from exhaustion, when they got inside. Sunday at 2 p. m. eight more arrived. They came staggering into the cabin, groping their way to the nearest seat, almost dead. Nearly all were snow blind to a more or less extent. One fellow's eyes were paining him so that he sobbed and cried like a child. The crowd spent the night. Saturday night it had snowed ten inches. Unless we get a hard freeze to make a crust I doubt if these men can reach the Mission even.
We have to entertain so many visitors that it is getting tiresome naturally. I judge we have fed sixty men in the past week, or at least have served that many meals. We call our camp the "Penelope Inn." or "Cape Nome Recuperating Station." John Miller is getting well rapidly and can stand on his feet to-day. They are sloughing. Several men we know are down with the mumps. We have all been exposed.
April 29. Saturday.—An Indian arrived with letters from the schooner "Penelope." C. C.'s party arrived all right. C. C.'s letter confirms the Cape Nome report, and he and Cox. Fancher. Alec and Driggs are to start in a couple of days from date. If they reach there all right, it will make seven of us on the ground. That left only the captain, with Rivers and Clyde, on the schooner, so C. C. suggested that Miller and Brown from this camp make all possible haste to get there, that they may assist at the breaking up of the ice.