Ever to our ears through the night came the roar of the river, here two hundred yards wide, rushing day and night to the sea, grand and powerful, glistening here and there in the morning twilight as the raging waters boiled and seethed over the hidden bowlders that threw the water as though some huge monster were trying to “buck” the current.
As soon as breakfast was over every man went to his task, the blankets were rolled in separate bundles, the entire equipment packed carefully, the guns tied fast for fear of the boat capsizing in the strong current. The leader started with the rope, two others followed, each taking a hold in turn, and the captain steered. The leader in advance put the rope on the river side of all trees, rocks, and debris; the other two, climbing out on the trees that extended over the water, assisted in pulling and keeping the rope clear. Occasionally we struck rapids, where the current was swift and caused much trouble to the boats by driving one or the other against a hidden bowlder, where it would hang as on a pivot, swinging backward and forward until one of the Indians would wade out in the ice-cold water up to his waist and release it.
The mania to kill was very strong in the hunters and at dawn the most bloodthirsty was astir, exhorting the cook to build a fire in the Yukon stove and hustling the packers to get ready for our up-river trip by loading the boats with the duffel. Across the beautiful river, sparkling with the silt of the glaciers, aglow with the morning sun, stood a solitary, snow-white herring gull, breakfasting upon a king salmon that had been cast by the swift current into an eddy and gently washed ashore. The passion for wilful destruction was uppermost in the heart of the gunner, and as quickly as possible he had a leaden missile on its way across the water. With the field-glasses could be seen the white bird with its graceful wings spread helplessly over the water and the beautiful white feathers crimsoned with its life blood, slowly moving with the current to the sea.
In a short time stakes were pulled, duffel packed, lines adjusted, and we were on our way. There was a little commotion at the head of the line when Simeon, one of the Indians, spied a large porcupine plodding his way deeper into the forest. Letting go of the rope he made a rush for the “porky,” caught it by the tail, held on till he got a club nearby, and proceeded to pound it over the head. The natives are very fond of “porky,” and when we pitched camp in the evening Simeon was very busy singeing the hair over the fire before boiling.
“Porky”
On our way up the river we were agreeably surprised to see a stranger walk into camp. Tall, erect, with clean-cut features, he looked the very picture of health. He wore a broad-brimmed hat with the garb of a hunter. Lunch was about ready, and on invitation he dined with us. In conversation we soon learned that he was a college man, a graduate of one of the leading colleges in the East, and had come from our own eastern city some fourteen years before. He told us that for several years he had corresponded with relatives and friends, but finally quit writing because he had not yet made his stake. However, he now had many encouraging prospects, and before long expected to make good and return east. It was surprising to us how an educated man could spend fourteen of the best years of his life in his little tent, with mosquitoes and “no-see-ims” as his only companions, dreaming, dreaming of the find that never came, and with his pan, pick, and shovel digging every here and there, with color, color everywhere, but not in paying quantities. On our way down we found him as usual, dreaming of the prospects he had staked, and when we left him a sack of flour and a few other necessaries of life he was very grateful, showing that a warm heart beat beneath the rough exterior. We bid him good-bye, and a large tear coursed down his cheek as he said: “I wish I were going with you, boys; but not yet; soon, I hope.” Is it any wonder that the steamers on their return trips carry so many insane men to the States? The entire river has been prospected and staked; the blazed trees and indelible pencil marks are about the only method of indicating that a claim has been staked. About half-way up the river we came to the deserted tent of the fellows who had participated in the shooting at Kenai.
In order to have a pleasant time on a trip of this sort it is very essential to have companions accustomed to “roughing it.” Every man in the party must sacrifice individual comfort for the benefit of the camp as a whole. I have in mind a trip taken to Alaska with another party where one individual was so selfish that every action was for his own comfort and enjoyment. For instance, he was always first to eat and managed to get a double portion of everything, cooked and uncooked. If there was one duck, one grouse, or one trout, he managed to cook the one and gorge himself and eat all to his own satisfaction. In the morning he was always first up and ready for breakfast, taking care of his individual interests and paying no attention to others. In fact, he would even permit the destruction of goods not his own without showing the least interest. In the same party was another character in many ways the opposite, always last to the table and never looking out for his own things; going around growling about this, that, and the other thing,—never in time for breakfast, lunch, or supper. There is no better opportunity to find out the good qualities of a companion than to go camping with him in the wilds. A selfish disposition soon becomes unbearable, and many a good outing has been spoiled by having such a fellow in the party. Few men are so constituted that they can stand “roughing it” very long under trying circumstances without showing the “yellow streak.”