Tillman tossed them to the ground. Pruitt objected. I was sorry to do it, but I agreed it made no sense to haul such luxuries. I wrapped the books in a piece of oilcloth and lodged them in a tree branch to protect them from the elements. Pruitt conjectured he might retrieve them at some point, but it seems unlikely.
We tried to assist Pruitt in the climb, but ourselves were too feeble. Tillman fought to keep his balance, pulled backwards by his pack, forwards by the baby at his chest.
While the taller of the Midnooskies was impatient, traveled far ahead, the other was more considerate of our state. He climbed back down to us, slung one of Pruitt’s arms over his shoulder, nearly carried him up the hill.
Atop the plateau, the Indians pointed down into the next valley where we could see the huts of their village.
We had chosen the wrong fork of the river.
It took the rest of the afternoon to make it to the village. When we arrived, we were greeted by an Indian, not much more than a boy, who stood in front of the largest of the houses. I introduced myself, then asked if I could meet with the chief.
I gestured towards the skin-covered hut, hoping he would understand.
?—?Tyone? I asked.
He looked at me in a frowning manner, as if I had mildly amused or annoyed him. He pointed at himself.
I had expected an elderly, hardened man. This one is young, barely a man. His expressions are neutral, but if anything he has a certain mild reserve. There is something in his manner that suggests he is disappointed by our appearance as well. No doubt word of our approach preceded us. Perhaps he imagined something more fierce than the gaunt, unkempt soldiers before him, baby in tow.
We were led into the main hut. Two Indians carried Pruitt, laid him down on one of the benches of spruce poles. In the center of the room, a giant kettle sat in the flames. We collapsed inside, ate all that was brought to us by the Indian women. There was moose meat that came boiled from the kettle, a mush of dried berries fried in animal fat, a wild root akin to parsnip that had been roasted in the flames. They also insisted we eat a broth of rabbit intestines.
Such have been our past two days. We wake only long enough to eat, nurse our battered feet, then sleep again. This is the first moment I have felt well enough to sit up to write for long. A woman cares for Pruitt, propping him up to eat & drink.
May 13
The world comes into sharper focus as my strength returns. All day, all night, all day again I have mostly slept on this bed of hides, but a few times today I have stuck my head out of the skin hut. The sunlight stuns the eyes, has a new heat to it I have not experienced before on this journey.
I cannot imagine how much we have eaten these past days. Tillman is recovered enough to at last notice what they feed us.
?—?They throw the guts into the pot! he observed.
It is true, the Midnooskies eat every part of an animal?—?bones, internal organs, skin, & tendons. The varied contents of the cook pot are heated just enough to lend some warmth to the broth, but not enough to leave the meat anything but raw.
I pointed out that we have eaten such meals for several days, suffered no ill from it.
?—?I can’t stomach it any longer, Tillman said.
When next the woman brought him a bowl of the half-raw entrails, he objected.
?—?I would take it gladly if I were you.
?—?I’d prefer sirloin, & well done at that.
He has not, however, complained since.
I am not bothered by the undercooked food, yet I feel the lack of salt keenly.
As told by the Indians we had encountered along the river, this is a wealthy village. Though I rarely catch sight of them, the children appear nourished. The adults are clothed in well-sewn skins & furs. They have traded with the coastal Indians for a few white man luxuries?—?the giant kettle, rifles & powder.
Despite his youth & gentle manner, the tyone also has a keen vigor to him. It seems he has at least three wives as well as a number of slaves. He is clearly the leader of these people. Even elderly men obey his commands.
I have much to ask him. When will the salmon come? What is our best route through the mountains? Will he guide us? Tillman’s translation skills have proven nearly useless. He says they speak a different dialect, so that he can only pick up a few words. We communicate mostly with gestures.
As generous as the tyone has been, I suspect it is in part a show of power. We continue to size each other up, endeavor to understand the other’s motivation.
Whether it be for the business man looking for investments, the invalid in search of health, the tourist seeking pleasure or sightseeing, or the sportsman looking for big game, no better opportunity offers than this trip through Southern Alaska.
?—?From A Guide for Alaska: Miners, Settlers and Tourists, 1902
When I First Saw White Men At Trail River
As told to Mary Eaken by her grandmother, transcribed and edited in 1948.
The one called “Colonel” came first. He and his soldiers.
We saw white men after that. I will tell you about the first time.
They came from down the Wolverine River. The ice was almost gone.
Man Who Flies on Black Wings came to tell us first.