The Greatest Works of Emerson Hough – 19 Books in One Volume (Illustrated Edition). Emerson Hough
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into his camp. It howls a great deal and is lost. We don’t know whose it is or where it came from.
“These Indians are starving, and, little as we have, we have to give them something. They wanted some flour and fat, and we shared almost our last. They have nets set and are waiting for the salmon to run. The Indian has only caught one salmon, and he said if they did not come pretty soon his people would die. They conclude to go on farther down the stream with us. He says he can take everything he has in that little canoe. They are wonders with boats.
“We all hustle now, because starvation threatens every one in our party. Even rabbits are scarce. No ptarmigan, no ducks, no fish. The river is big and the wind affects the down-stream speed.
“The Indian keeps along with us. His canoe has about an inch and a half free-board, and is loaded down with children, dogs, nets, and so forth. Glad to have the Indian with us, because he knows something of the country. He says Fish River, the next stream below, is half-way to Old Crow. This is an old trading-post which gets supplies from the Yukon, and we will feel safe if we can get there.
“Our new Indian is named Andrew. He can talk a little. He says the land portage from Fort McPherson to Fort LaPierre is lined with cast-off stuff that people have tried to carry and couldn’t. It is a starving country and a starving march. So is this a starving journey by water. When we went ashore it was in a rousing gale of wind. Uncle Dick baked some bannocks in our old way, leaning the frying-pan against a stick driven down before the fire. We are so tired that when we don’t have to work we just fall asleep wherever we are. We always have some one awake to watch things and to tell the others when to wake up. We have been wet a great deal of the time from rain and waves. Dried our bedding this time, once more. Not much excitement and plenty of hard work. I don’t know whether any of us would come across here again or not. Probably not.
“After a long wait the wind let up, and we started in the late evening for the run to Old Crow, which we are anxious to see. Head winds. Hard paddling. Kept on into the night, but met an awful storm. Wind was almost a tornado, and for a wonder snow fell in sheets. Our canoe got turned around two or three times in the night, and we wouldn’t know which way to go, for the wind came up-stream and every other way. We nearly swamped. Managed to get ashore, drenched to the skin and very cold. It looks like winter. Andrew’s children are crying a great deal now. We haven’t much to eat. It was about the worst night we ever had. We pushed on down as fast as we could as soon as we got warm enough to work. Reached Old Crow trading-post 8 a.m., after the worst night I ever spent.
“Saturday, August 2d. — What luck! Old Crow post is deserted — no one here at all — not even a native hanging around! Uncle Dick thought it was right to break open a window and go in. There was a stove, so we made a fire. The trader had left his stock here. Of course it was burglary to open the store. If an Indian did it they probably would follow him a thousand miles and punish him. We left a note telling them who we were and what we had taken — another blanket or so, some pairs of mittens, and a little clothing for the Indian children, who were almost frozen. The trader lives at Fort Yukon, and we will pay him there.
“Andrew says the next stop is going to be at Rampart House, sixty miles down the river. We have taken about fourteen hours to make the last thirty-five miles, as near as we can tell. We are all in bad shape. Getting a little weak.
“The trader’s goods have been damaged by water. This wet snow fell more than a foot deep over everything, and the roof has leaked. Well, we can’t stay here long, and we’ll have to travel day and night the best we can. Any accident now would be very bad for everybody.
“John and Jesse paddle all they can. We all get very cold, as it seems almost like winter. Stopped to get warm and eat. Uncle Dick says plenty of tea won’t hurt us if we work. We take turns fair as we know how, the ones paddling who can stay awake.
“Well, we are nearer to being safe. By traveling all the time, fifteen and a half hours from Old Crow, we made Rampart House — not bad time if the distance is correct. Weather cold. Snow threatening again.
“Sunday, August 3d. — At Rampart House. One week from the summit. Two weeks from the mouth of the Rat. Rampart House looks mighty good to us all. Here there is a Hudson’s Bay post with some goods in stock and a young Englishman running it. Natives almost starving. No fish yet. The men are just starting out for caribou, which are now reported thirty miles north of here. Not much goods left in the trading-post. Our reception here very chilly. No one seems to care whether we live or not, and sometimes we have been so tired we hardly did ourselves.
“The trader tells us it is 240 miles from here to the Yukon, and it seems a long way. At least we can get warm and dry here.
“Next day. We slept eighteen hours out of twenty-four. Weather warming up. Hunters not back, but one Indian caught a king salmon in a net, so the village is more cheerful. Everybody shared the salmon, which was a large one, fifty pounds. These people are Loucheux. Sometimes squaw-men live in here at Rampart House. More dogs here than I ever saw. One ate my moccasins last night — the ones that I had extra soles on. I wish he hadn’t done it, because I needed them.
“This is an important post in the North. It is old and well known, and it has special interest because it is directly on the International Boundary-line. There is a monument here which the American surveyors put up not long ago. They were in here quite a while, but their work of marking out the International Boundary between Alaska and the Dominion of Canada is now done.
“All of us boys got gay and went over on the other side of the Boundary and took off our hats and gave three cheers for America. We were glad we were on American soil once more. We feel now as if we were getting out of the fur-trading country. Am not sorry. I don’t like the country or the people in it very much. Everything seems so shiftless. Still, they manage to get on. I suppose if I lived up here a hundred years things might look different.
“Monday, August 4th. — Breakfast 10.30. We’ve got some supplies here. Nothing much to boast of. Fixed up our boat again for the long run for home. We feel pretty safe now. Left Andrew at Old Crow, but saw some people at Rampart who knew about him and other travelers who are back of us on the Porcupine. We hope they will all get out. Winter will come any time now. Left at 4.30 in the afternoon. Ran two hours and had tea. River rising very fast, and current swift, so that we thought we made five or six miles an hour at least. Ran two and a half hours, some of us paddling, and thought we made thirty miles. We are trying to use this rise in the river all we can. Camped on a stony beach. Sand is very wet and cold for a bed, but we cut some willows and did fairly well. Not very cold.
“Tuesday, August 5th. — Struck an Indian camp and traded tea for some fresh moose meat, which we were mighty glad to get. I am like John — I never want to see a rabbit again.
“To-day passed a boat tracking up-stream for Rampart. A man and dog were pulling. They had a sail set to help, and the steersman was poling and paddling the best he could to help. Even so, it was a slow way to get up-stream. We felt sorry for them when we left them. Later in the day met still another boat, two Indians tracking freight up to Rampart House. They say sometimes freight is carried up this river with a powerboat. These Indians say we’ve come about a hundred miles from Rampart, and that in about twenty miles we will be half-way to the mouth of the river. Wish it were not so far.
“Wednesday, August 6th. — This is hard work. We rested and paddled and slept and paddled. Too much wind, and we had to quit toward evening. When the wind lulled we started again. Much rain and dark weather. Water very fast, probably six to seven miles an hour. We eat at least four times a day, so as to keep strong as possible. Considerable wind now, and fall seems coming. Whenever the sun comes out and we can lie down in the sun, we do, so as to keep warm while we sleep. Don’t know how far it is to Yukon, but have been making good time.
“Thursday, August 7th. — Head winds again, but sun bright and warm. Spent considerable time ashore, resting, as we were about played out, and we thought that we might now be safe in a little delay. Got off late in the afternoon, and did well. Uncle Dick says the Yukon can’t be more than fifty to seventy-five miles ahead. Camped late in a bunch of spruce, and slept until 2 o’clock in the morning.