As we travel towards the mountains, the Wolverine narrows, deepens, the ice collapses to the center of the river. Samuelson says it is unsafe, so we keep near the shore, where we must traverse the mouths of creeks that flow out of the mountains into the Wolverine.
?—?I don’t like it, the trapper repeated often. —?That water would be over our heads, & the ice is weak.
I began to think him overly cautious. At my urging, we passed quickly over the creeks without incident.
We eventually came to a much larger crossing.
?—?This is not one of your little trickles, Colonel, Samuelson said. —?I do believe this is Half Mountain River. Under that ice, it’s a powerful current. We don’t want to take a swim here.
He advised we travel up Half Mountain River to find a safer crossing. It would push us a mile out of our way, perhaps more, the path slowed by deadfall trees.
Or we could risk this hundred yards, pass over it in minutes. The ice was blown clear of snow but for a few small drifts, & appeared thick, unbroken, rose several feet before dropping down into the Wolverine.
I asked if the crown wasn’t strong.
?—?Maybe. All the same, I’d advise against it.
Downstream of the crown, the ice sloped sharply towards the Wolverine. The ice sunk dark & low.
?—?But it’s just a hop across, Tillman said. —?Why, I’ll wager we can make it, if we run quick.
The trapper has never steered me wrong. Yet I begrudged another delay, which might be enough to jeopardize our passage through the canyon. I ordered that we would cross, one by one.
Pruitt volunteered & traversed the mound of ice first, pulling a sled behind him, with no sign of difficulty. Once he was safely across, I followed. Most precarious was the slippery footing, yet the ice stayed solid beneath me.
Tillman came next.
?—?It’s slicker than a greased eel, he said as he neared the crest.
At these words, his sled veered just enough off the crown to begin to slide down towards the Wolverine. As the sled gained momentum, it yanked Tillman’s feet out from under him, & he too slipped. As he & the sled slid down onto that dark, thin ice, the sled broke through first, then Tillman, so that he was chest-deep in water.
His sled was heavy, loaded with the last of the caribou meat as well as a large portion of our flour, rice, beans. The current was swift enough to suck it beneath the ice & into the main flow of the Wolverine. Still Tillman held its tether. Even as Pruitt & I ran back across, leaving our sleds behind, I could see Tillman’s feet shift beneath him. He leaned forward with all his weight so that his shoulders were submerged. He was losing ground, nearing the point where he would be dragged out into the big river. Once he was pulled beneath the ice, there would be no saving him.
I yelled for him to release the sled.
He growled like an animal as he fought the current.
?—?Save yourself, for God’s sake. Let it go!
I then saw the trouble. The tether was tied about his chest, to make pulling easier, but now it trapped him.
The Indian Skilly was quicker than any of us. He jumped into the water beside Tillman, a knife in hand, & slashed the tether. The sled was lost.
Samuelson handed me a long driftwood pole. I lowered the end to the men, helped each climb out of the water onto the icy shore. Tillman’s body quaked, from both the cold & the loss I suspect.
?—?I’ve done it, Colonel. D?——?d us good, I have.
The blame was all mine. I told him so. I should have followed Samuelson’s advice. The trapper, however, was kind enough to not point out my folly. He wrapped his own dry coat around Tillman’s shoulders. We stood & watched as the dog ran down the shore of the Wolverine, as if it chased some grind or clunk of the sled beneath the ice that we could not hear.
We camp tonight near the creek that claimed our stores. Our supplies are reduced to meager indeed. Less than a month into Alaska, perhaps a year still ahead of us, our remaining food will last us only weeks. We must be resourceful & also count on the good will of the natives we meet upriver.
Samuelson sets out snares to check at dawn. The snowshoe hares have little meat & no fat, but we will subsist on them as the Indians do.
Tomorrow we follow Samuelson’s advice after all & travel up this valley to seek a better crossing. We must then make our way back down the opposite bank to retrieve Pruitt’s sled. Two days lost instead of one. I am only thankful Tillman is alive & well.
Sophie Forrester
Vancouver Barracks
March 24, 1885