To the Bright Edge of the World

June 1

The Midnooskies have requested Tillman name the found infant before we part ways. Many suggestions for the child were considered, including the names of people in our party, but none could be agreed upon. I offered Bradley, after Tillman since he seems to have a soft spot for the baby, but he said he has never cared much for his own name & would not like to burden a child with it. Other names would draw up some unpleasant association. Michael was the name of Tillman’s uncle, who was apparently the ‘meanest b?——?d’ Tillman had ever known. George, a favorite of mine, was tossed out because it called to the trapper’s mind some association with “sissy royalty,” while Boyd said he had known too many cheating saloon gamblers of the name of Frank.

I suggested we consider a biblical name, in the way of frontier missionaries. As the son of a pastor, Pruitt knew better than the rest of us & made a strong cases for ‘Moses.’ But what of a family name, when this child has no family? Again Pruitt’s knowledge proved useful. The scientific name for the spruce tree is Picea.

Moses Picea it is.

Later in the day Samuelson came with the lazy-eyed shaman, as he wanted to tell me something.

?—?He wants you to know it is good we have given the child one of our names. He says he will need it when it is time to fight the Red Beards.

I said there is no reason to think there will be a battle.

?—?He says the battle will come. But maybe this boy will be able to talk over here, talk over there.

June 2

For now, our party upriver consists of myself, Sgt. Tillman, Lieut. Pruitt, Ceeth Hwya, Nat’aaggi, & the dog. Samuelson & Boyd will continue with us for the next week or so to scout prospecting sites.

We retrieved our cached goods, including tea, lard, beans, our last sack with some small portion of flour. I insisted that we leave behind Pruitt’s photographic equipment & remaining plates. We arranged for Ceeth Hwya to send these downriver with traders to be delivered to Perkins Island. Pruitt does not believe he will ever see the photograph plates again. I understand his dismay, yet they become unwarranted as our welfare does not depend on them.

We pull our supplies upriver in the skin boat. The current is swift, however, so the work is hard. I consider resorting to packs again, but it would require us to abandon some of the food we have obtained from the Indians. I had hoped to employ several Midnooskies as guides upriver, but the tyone says they cannot be spared from their fishing.

Ceeth Hwya’s presence, however, is a considerable asset. It is evident the esteem in which he is held along this river. At each Indian camp, we are greeted with much fanfare, provided with salmon & wild greens. These protracted visits slow our progress, but we are kept well fed.

June 3

I understand that their ways are not like ours, yet is there not some basic level of human morality? In a just world, a man should be given his due. If he works hard, he should be rewarded. If he shirks his duty, he should be punished. One would expect this to be universally accepted, but not so among some of these Indians.

I have made it my habit at each camp to present the local head man with a small token to show our respect. Today we met one tyone who was a particularly lazy, unpleasant fellow. He did nothing for himself, would not even stand in our presence, but shouted orders at his vassals.

A young boy, bright-eyed & cheerful, ran about the camp at the tyone’s bidding. The boy fetched water & wooden trays with food for each of us. As the visit wore on, I became decided. I gave the boy a coin. I made no show of it, but neither did I hide it. The tyone was watchful as he perhaps waited to receive his own gift. None was coming.

Samuelson disapproved of my stand.

?—?You won’t change their way of thinking, just rile them.

There was to be no conflict. The tyone simply called the boy to him, took the coin, merrily thanked me for the gift as if I had intended to give it to him all along. As we turned our back on the camp, he was proudly showing his prize among his men.


I enjoy my conversations with Ceeth Hwya, which become less formal. Though I have no aptitude for it, I learn a few words of his language. Mostly, though, I rely on Samuelson for translation. This afternoon as we traveled upriver, the tyone asked about where I come from, my family, & our ways of living, which I endeavored to answer. He was surprised to learn that a man of my age & status would have only one wife, to which Samuelson offered that perhaps more wives only meant more trouble. This amused Ceeth Hwya.

His next line of questions puzzled us for some time. He approached it in several ways, asking about a certain activity I conducted each day. At last he mimicked the behavior of my writing in my journal.

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