A Woman who went to Alaska

by May Kellogg Sullivan

Location papers then had to be written out, grub boxes packed, a tent looked up, and many things attended to before they left, so that others in camp got an inkling of what was being done and wanted to go along. Then M. and the musician decided to put off going until midnight, when they would sneak quietly out of camp with their dogs and scamper away among the hills without the others knowing it, but it could not be done, and two or three sleds followed them at midnight in the moonlight, as is the custom with Alaska "stampeders."

January fifth: Mollie asked me today to go with her to visit her fox traps, and I immediately decided to go. We started about half-past one in the afternoon, on foot past the cliff, but when we had gone a short distance Mollie stopped to call back to the house. Some native boys were cutting wood at the north door, and she motioned one to come to her. When he came, she spoke to him in Eskimo, and he, assenting to what she said, ran back again.

"I tell Muky to come with dog-team, bring us home, you get tired by and by," she said thoughtfully, as we trudged on again over and through the snow. The woman wore a reindeer parkie, short skirt, and muckluks, and carried a gun on her shoulder. The snow was quite a foot deep, with a crust on top which we broke at almost every step, and which made it hard walking. On we "mushed," past the cliff, the boats, and out upon the ice. The traps had been set by Mollie a week before on the northeast shore of the bay among a few low bushes, and this was our objective point. When we reached the first trap, which was buried in snow, but found by a certain shrub which Mollie had in some way marked and now recognized, I threw myself upon the snow to rest and watch her movements.

Around us we saw plenty of ptarmigan tracks, but no signs of foxes. A foot below the snow's surface, Mollie found her trap, and proceeded to reset it. Carefully covering the trap with a very little light snow and smoothing it nicely over, she chipped off bits of reindeer meat from a scrap she had brought with her, scattering them invitingly around.

The scene about us was a very quiet one and wintry in the extreme. Long, low hills stretched out on every side of the bay, and the whole earth was a great snow heap. The sky and cloud effects were charming, fading sunshine on the hilltops making them softly pink, and very lovely; but with deep reddish purple tints over all as the sun-ball disappeared.

One after another, four fox traps in different places were reset by Mollie, while I mushed on behind her.

At last we saw the dog-team and Muky coming on the bay. Five dogs he had hitched to his sled, and each wore a tiny bell at its throat, making a pretty din as they trotted. When the woman had finished her trapping, we both climbed into the sled, the native running and calling to the dogs, and they started for home. It was not a long ride, probably not more than a mile and a half as we went, but while tramping through the snow crust to the traps it seemed much longer.

I now thoroughly enjoyed the novel ride. In the dusky twilight the dogs trotted cheerfully homeward, obeying the musical calls of their driver, and the little bells jingled merrily. Darker and more purple grew the skies until they tinted the snow over which we were passing, and by the time we had halted before the hotel door it was really night.

By the clock it was fifteen minutes past four and the thermometer registered fifteen degrees below zero. Then we toasted our feet before the big heater, removed and shook out our frosty furs, and answered the two children's questions. To these Mollie gave her explanations in Eskimo, and I told of the ptarmigan tracks I had seen on the snow drifts.

Sunday, January sixth: Yesterday I moved into the little southeast room which was formerly Miss J.'s. It has pretty paper on the walls, and a small heater in one corner, besides a single cot, and I soon settled quite comfortably. The room with the bunks was needed for the men, of whom there are so many most of the time. The room I now have has a south window, but not a double one, and gets heavy with frost, which remains on the panes; but I can have a fire when I want one, as the stove burns chips and short wood, of which there are always quantities in the shed. B. tells me to use all the wood I want, as there is no shortage of fuel, nor men to haul and cut it, which I think is very kind. A little fire while I am dressing nights and mornings, however, is all I shall try to keep burning.