CHAPTER III
HUNTING BIG GAME ON THE KENAI PENINSULA
We arrived at Seldovia, on Cook’s Inlet, on the evening of August 28th. Between the steamer landing and the town, a creek, unbridged as yet, enters the bay, and except at ebb tide the passengers are compelled to cross the arm of the bay by rowboat. The tide being then at flood, it was necessary to get a dory before we could reach the village. One of the natives who hailed from the cannery nearby was the proud owner of an old dugout. We knew the water was quite shallow across the arm of the fiord, yet some of the party were fearful of the craft. We all got into the boat, and how quickly the inexperienced displayed their awkwardness. Instead of stepping carefully to the center they landed on the side, causing the dugout to ship water. After righting matters we started across, when “Clumsy,” in trying to make himself comfortable, rocked the craft and “Timid” gave peremptory commands to return, which we did. Two of the party got out and the rest were landed safely on the other shore. In a few hours we were all aboard a home-made tug of six tons burden, called the Bydarky, and on our way up the inlet some sixty miles to Kenai. We retired to our bunks shortly after the boat got under way, and when we awoke in the morning we were lying at anchor near the beach at Kenai. The captain of the boat, being very anxious to get out on the tide, asked us to unload our duffel as quickly as possible, so that he might start at once. In our haste we overlooked Doc’s hand satchel but did not discover this until too late.
Kenai is a little village built on a plateau overlooking the inlet, a sixty-foot sand embankment down to the water’s edge, lending it the appearance of a fortified town. We ascended the road, entered the post-office and store, and began to make inquiries about guides, boats, and equipment. We soon learned that we could get white guides for ten dollars per day and “keep,” and natives for five dollars; white packers for five dollars per day and “keep,” natives for three dollars. After scouring the village we found two licensed native guides and two packers and gave them instructions to get our boats and provisions ready as quickly as possible, so that we could leave on the next flood tide for the Kenai River. In selecting guides and packers, I think it is a mistake to take natives, as they are naturally indolent, lack the interest the white man has in his work, are over-sensitive about their treatment, and sulk upon the least provocation; and then one never can impress upon them the eagerness of the party to secure, in the limited time at its disposal, photographs of big game in its natural haunts, or a desirable trophy. Time is the only object to them when they are out with a party at five dollars a day. To illustrate, on this occasion we had made an agreement with the head guide that the packers would go with us for three dollars a day and “keep,” but we were not out more than a three days’ “line” of the river until they demanded three fifty, and when refused began to sulk and lag behind with their work, and for fear they would leave us before we got up the river we were obliged to grant their demand. Indeed, they will sometimes purposely lead parties away from the best game country in order to keep them out as long as possible.
The evening before we arrived at Kenai, two miners had come to town for provisions and had sold their dust. They then started out for a good time, landed in a “joint,” consumed all the “houch,” after which they proceeded to “paint the town red.” They succeeded fairly well, ended up with broken heads and limbs, and with a bullet in the breast of one. In the village was a doctor, some eighty years of age, who had long been in the habit of locating for the summer at Kenai to practice medicine. When the old man learned that there was a doctor in our party he looked us up and invited a consultation. Doc accepted the invitation, and on examination found the lead had entered the side, glanced around the ribs, and embedded itself in the muscles. He was very much surprised to find that the patient was wrapped in an extremely dirty towel, and everything was filthy. He said to the local physician, “Are you not afraid of the wound becoming infected?” Whereupon the latter informed him that no pus ever formed in wounds in that country and that infection was unknown. Our doctor made considerable inquiry about the matter, for he was very much interested, and learned that this was true.
The man who did the shooting was arrested and placed in the custody of the town bailiff, but was permitted to roam over the country at will. The authorities well know, and so do the prisoners, that it would be suicide of the worst form for the guilty to try to escape to the woods, for it means death of the most horrible sort—by exposure and starvation. The only avenue of escape was by boat that left twice a week. Inquiring about the case on our return trip, we learned that the commissioner had arrived, a day was fixed for hearing, the testimony was beyond a doubt conclusive against the prisoner, and he was held without bail for trial at Valdez, whither he was taken by the commissioner. However, the injured man recovered and the gallows was again defrauded.
Our party consisted of four, and for brevity’s sake we will call them “Doc,” “Old Sourdough,” “Cheechalker,” and “Esau.” The provisions had all been purchased at Seattle and packed carefully in water-proof bags and cans. Many and varied were the suggestions made by the party as to what should be taken along. Doc suggested talcum powder, frostilene, and vaseline, with pills of various colors, red, white, and blue. He had a special satchel well filled with antiseptics, anodynes, astringents, styptics, and bactericides, but unfortunately for his peace of mind he discovered, too late, that the precious satchel had been left on the Bydarky, the little boat that brought us over from Seldovia to Kenai, and there were no immediate prospects of recovering the important parcel. Doc looked wistfully after the little boat disappearing in the distance as it plowed its way through the tide-rifts, and submitted with such grace as he could command to the chaffing of his companions.
By way of firearms Cheechalker (northern name for “tenderfoot”) had quite an assortment,—a ten-gauge shotgun with five hundred rounds of ammunition, one Springfield army rifle, model of 1909, a Winchester .30-.30, and several others. Cheechalker insisted upon his tin bathtub, but Old Sourdough finally pacified him with a description of a bath à la Wilderness. This is accomplished by erecting a tepee, like that the Indians build, around a fire in a small depression filled with stones, then, when the bather is ready, removing the fire and pouring water on the stones, thus producing steam enough to open the pores of the skin, after which a good rubbing at the hands of an Indian valet completes the ablution. In this way one might get along for a few weeks at least without his tub. For this substitute Cheechalker finally consented to give up the useful article.