?—?I can’t make it out, but I think he’s wearing a black hat, Pruitt said.
Surely the Old Man could not be here, these many miles up the Wolverine River, when we left him behind in the Indian camp. Yet there could be no doubt that it was him.
The Old Man waved his arms, then hopped into the air with what seemed like more height than should be possible for a man of his age. With each jump, he tucked up his feet, so that he appeared airborne.
?—?What is he doing up there? Tillman asked.
Pruitt left his sleeping bag, took out field glasses. Nearby the Indians were packing up their belongings.
?—?They’re moving away from this hill, Samuelson said. —Believe I will, too. Don’t like the looks of him up there.
He rolled up his sleeping bag, jostled Boyd awake.
Tillman wanted to go as well, but I said I would not be moved by a cockeyed troublemaker.
As Tillman & I tried to sleep, we could hear the Old Man’s calls. There were no words that I could discern, only cackles, yowls.
Around dark, Pruitt returned to his sleeping bag.
?—?He leapt into a treetop, Pruitt whispered.
No matter how we questioned him, he was convinced of what he had seen.
We were all silent in the dark after that. I knew from the way Tillman & Pruitt cleared their throats, turned in their sleeping bags, that none of us was quick to sleep. Yet somehow we must have dozed, for we were startled awake by rumbles in the dark above us.
?—?Something’s coming down the hill! Tillman shouted.
I heard the Old Man’s calls, then flaps like that of giant wings. With the noise came another crash of something falling down the gully. We scrambled to our feet, gathered our sleeping bags in our arms, & ran through the dark.
Behind us was a rumble, the cracking of branches, the rush of cold air at our backs.
When we reached the far side of the creek, as far as we could go in such darkness, Pruitt struck a match, lit a candle so that we could see enough to climb back into our sleeping bags.
We remained awake the rest of the night.
At dawn we saw our near fate. The Old Man had triggered an avalanche of snow, ice, earth, & rocks that spilled down the gully, swept through our camp. It was only luck that our sleds, with scant remaining supplies, were just beyond the reach of the slide.
There is no sign of the Old Man this morning. I do not know his motives, but if we see him again, I may not stop Tillman when he takes him by the collar.
&56. THE MECHANISM of these bones is admirable. The shoulder-joint is loose, much like ours, and allows the humerus to swing all about, though chiefly up and down. The elbow-joint is tight, permitting only bending and unbending in a horizontal line. The finger bones have scarcely any motion. But it is in the wrist that the singular mechanism exists.
?—?From Key to North American Birds: Living and Fossil Bird,
Elliott Coues, assistant surgeon U.S. Army, 1872
Received at Vancouver Barracks on June 5, 1885
Wolverine River, Alaska Territory
April 18, 1885
Dearest Sophie, my love,
I do not know the chances of this letter ever reaching you, & certainly it will be a miracle if it does, but I have to seize this chance. The Indians we employed on Alaska’s coast are to leave us now. We send them back down the river with a report to Vancouver Barracks, letters to loved ones, & a box of photograph plates Lieut. Pruitt has taken thus far on the trip. They have orders to bring everything to Perkins Island & send via steamer to Vancouver.
Sophie, you do not know how precious your letter is to me. Your words have filled me with much joy & love; they keep me through the toughest days. I travel with different eyes now, eyes for home & your arms & your love & our child. It is remarkable, & at times overwhelms me, to think of how full my life has become. Just a few short years ago, I had no such ties. Each night’s camp was home enough. It may be why I had so little fear. What did I have to lose? Nothing compared to now.