Chapter 9 of travels in Alaska. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Robert White. Travels in Alaska by John Muir. Chapter 9. A Canoe Voyage to Northwood. I arrived at Rangel in a canoe with a party of Cassia miners in October, while the icy regions to the Northwood still burned in my mind. I had met several prospectors who had been as far as Chilkat at the head of Ling Canal, who told wonderful stories about the great glaciers they had seen there. All the high mountains up there, they said, seem to be made of ice, and if glaciers are what you're after, that's the place for you. And to get there all you have to do is hire a good canoe and Indians who know the way. But it now seemed too late to set out on so long a voyage. The days were growing short and winter was drawing nigh when all the land would be buried in snow. On the other hand, though this wilderness was new to me, I was familiar with storms and enjoyed them. The main channels extending along the coast remained open all winter, and their shores being well forested, I knew that it would be easy to keep warm in camp, while abundance of food could be carried. I determined therefore to go ahead as far north as possible to see and learn what I could, especially with reference to future work. When I made known my plans to Mr. Young, he offered to go with me, and being acquainted with the Indians procured a good canoe and crew, and with a large stock of provisions and blankets we left Wrangel October 14th, eager to welcome weather of every sort, as long as food lasted. I was anxious to make an early start, but it was half past two in the afternoon before I could get my Indians together. Toyat, a grand old stickine nobleman, who was made captain, not only because he owned the canoe, but for his skill in woodcraft and seamanship. Kadachan, the son of a Chilkat chief, John a stickine who acted as interpreter, and Sitka Charlie. Mr. Young, my companion, was an adventurous evangelist, and it was the opportunities the trip might afford to meet the Indians of the different tribes on our route, with reference to future missionary work that induced him to join us. When at last all were aboard, and we were about to cast loose from the wharf, Kadachan's mother, a woman of great natural dignity and force of character, came down the steps alongside the canoe, oppressed with anxious fears for the safety of her son. Standing silent for a few moments, she held the missionary with her dark boat full eyes, and with great solemnity of speech and gesture, accused him of using undue influence in gaining her son's consent to go on a dangerous voyage among unfriendly tribes.  We shall see whether or not you die, she said, and turned away. Toyat also encountered domestic difficulties. When he stepped into the canoe, I noticed a cloud of anxiety on his grand old face, as if his doom now drawing near was already beginning to overshadow him. When he took leave of his wife, she refused to shake hands with him, wept bitterly and said that his enemies, the Chilkat chiefs, would be sure to kill him in case he reached their village. But it was not on this trip that the old hero was to meet his fate, and when we were fairly free in the wilderness and a gentle breeze pressed us joyfully over the shining waters, these gloomy forebodings vanished. We first pursued a westerly course through Sumner Strait, between Kupranoff and Prince of Wales Islands. Then turning northward sailed up the Kiki Strait through the midst of innumerable picturesque islets, across Prince Frederick Sound, up Chatham Strait, thence north-westward through Icy Strait, and around the then uncharted Glacier Bay. Thence returning through Icy Strait, we sailed up the beautiful Lynn Canal to the Davidson Glacier, and the lower village of the Chilkat tribe, and returned to Wrangel along the coast of the mainland, visiting the Icy Sum Dumb Bay and the Wrangel Glacier on their route. Thus we made a journey more than eight hundred miles long, and though hardships and perhaps dangers were encountered, the great wonderland made compensation beyond their most extravagant hopes. Neither rain nor snow stopped us, but when the wind was too wild, Kadachan and the old captain stayed on guard in the camp, and John and Charlie went into the woods deer-hunting, while I examined the adjacent rocks and woods. Most of our campgrounds were in sheltered nooks, where good firewood was abundant, and where the precious canoe could be safely drawn up beyond the reach of the waves. After supper we sat long around the fire, listening to the Indian stories about the wild animals, their hunting adventures, wars, traditions, religion and customs. Every Indian party we met we interviewed and visited every village we came to. Our first camp was made at a place called the Island of Standing Stone on the shore of the shallow bay. The weather was fine. The mountains of the mainland were unclouded excepting one, which had a horizontal rough of dull slate color, but its icy summit covered with fresh snow, towered above the cloud, flushed like its neighbors in the Alpen Glow. All the large islets in sight were densely forested, while many small rock islets in front of our camp were treeless or nearly so. Some of them were distinctly glaciated, even below the tide line, the effects of wave-washing and general weathering being scarce appreciable as yet. Some of the larger islets had a few trees, others only grass. One looked in the distance like a two-masted ship, flying before the wind on depressive sail. Next morning the mountains were arrayed in fresh snow that had fallen during the night, down to within a hundred feet of the sea level. We made a grand fire and after an early breakfast pushed merrily on all day along beautiful forested shores, embroidered with autumn-colored bushes. I noticed some pitchy trees that had been deeply hacked for kindling wooden torches, precious conveniences to belated voyages on stormy nights. Before sundown we camped in a beautiful nook of Deer Bay, shut in from every wind by grey-bearded trees and fringed with rosebushes, rubus, potentilla, asters, etc. Some of the litch-intresses depending from the branches were six feet in length. A dozen rods or so from our camp we discovered a family of cake Indians snugly sheltered in a portable bark hut.  After our tent was set and fire-made the head of the family paid us a visit and presented us with a fine salmon, a pair of mallard ducks, and a mess of potatoes. We paid a return visit with gifts of rice and tobacco, etc. Mr Young spoke briefly on mission affairs and inquired whether their tribe would be likely to welcome a teacher or missionary. But they seemed unwilling to offer an opinion on so important a subject. The following words from the head of the family was the only reply. We have not much to say to you, fellows.  This is all we have to say. Our cake neighbors set out for Fort Rangel next morning, and we pushed gladly on towards Chilkat. We passed an island that had lost all its trees in a storm, but a hopeful crop of young ones was springing up to take their places. I found no trace of fire in these woods. The ground was covered with leaves, branches, and fallen trunks, perhaps a dozen generations deep, slowly decaying, forming a grand mossy mass of ruins, kept fresh and beautiful. All that is repulsive about death was here hidden beneath a bounding life. Some rocks along the shore were completely covered with crimson-leafed huckleberry bushes. One species still in fruit might well be called the winter huckleberry. In a short walk, I found vetches eight feet high, leaning on raspberry bushes, and tall ferns, and smell a scene of unifolia with leaves six inches wide, growing on yellow-green moss, producing a beautiful effect. Our Indians seemed to be enjoying a quick and merry reaction from the doleful domestic dumps in which the voyage was begun. Old and young behaved this afternoon like a lot of truant boys on a lark. When we came to a pond fenced off from the main channel by a moraine dam, John went ashore to seek a shot at ducks. Creeping up behind the dam, he killed a mallard fifty or sixty feet from the shore, and attempted to wave it within reach by throwing stones back of it. Charlie and Caderchan went to his help, enjoying the sport, especially enjoying their own blunders in throwing in front of it, and thus driving the duck farther out. To expedite the business, John just tried to throw a rope across it, but failed after repeated trials, and so did each in turn, all laughing merrily at their awkward bungling. Next they tied a stone to the end of the rope to carry it further and with better aim, but the result was no better. Then majestic old Tyatt tried his hand at the game. He tied the rope to one of the canoe poles and taking aim through it, harpoon fashion, beyond the duck, and the general merriment was redoubled when the pole got loose and floated out to the middle of the pond. At length John stripped, swam back to the duck, threw it ashore, and bought in the pole in his teeth. His companions meanwhile making merry at his expense by splashing the water in front of him, and making the duck go through the motions of fighting and biting him in the face as he landed. The morning after this delightful day was dark and threatening. A high wind was rushing down the straight, dead against us, and just as we were about ready to start, determined to fight our way by creeping close in shore, pelting rain began to fly. We concluded therefore to wait for better weather. The hunters went out for deer and eye to see the forests. The rain brought out the fragrance of the drenched trees and the wind made wild melody in their tops while every brown bowl was embroidered by a network of rain rills. Perhaps the most delightful part of my ramble was a longer stream that flowed through a leafy arch beneath overleaping trees which met at the top. The water was almost black in the deep pools and fine clear amber in the shallows. It was the pure rich wine of the woods with a pleasant taste, bringing spicy spruce groves and widespread bog and beaver meadows to mind. On this amber stream I discovered an interesting fall. It is only a few feet high but remarkably fine in the curve of its brow and blending shades of colour, while the mossy bushy pool into which it plunges is inky black but wonderfully brightened by foam bells larger than common that drift in clusters on the smooth water around the rim, each of them carrying a picture of the overlooking trees, leaning together at the tips like the teeth of moss capsules before they rise. I found most of the trees here fairly loaded with mosses. Some broadly palm-aited branches had beds of yellow moss so wide and deep that when wet they must wear a hundred pounds or even more. Upon these moss beds, ferns and grasses and even good-sized seedling trees grow, making beautiful hanging gardens in which the curious spectacle is presented of old trees holding hundreds of their own children in their arms, nourished by rain and dew and the decaying leaves showered down to them by their parents. The branches upon which these beds of mossy soil rest become flat and irregular like weathered roots or the antlers of deer and at length die, and when the whole tree has thus been killed it seems to be standing on its head with roots in the air. A striking example of this sort stood near the camp and I called the missionaries' attention to it. Come, Mr. Young, I shouted, here's something wonderful, the most wonderful tree you ever saw, it's standing on its head. How in the world, said he in astonishment, could that tree have been plucked up by the roots, carried high in the air and dropped down head foremost into the ground. It must have been the work of a tornado. Toward evening the hunters brought in the deer. They had seen four others and at the campfire talk said that deer abounded on all the islands of considerable size and along the shores of the mainland. But few were to be found in the interior on account of walls that ran them down where they could not readily take refuge in the water. The Indians, they said, hunted them on the islands with trained dogs which went into the woods and drove them out, while the hunters lain weight in canoes at the points where they were likely to take to the water. Beaver and black bear also abounded on this large island. I saw but few birds there, only ravens, jays and wrens. Ducks, gulls, bald eagles and jays are the commonest birds here abeds. A flock of swans flew past, sanding their startling human-like cry which seemed yet more striking in this lonely wilderness. The Indians said that geese, swans, cranes, etc., making their long journeys in regular order thus called a loud to encourage each other and enable them to keep stroke and time like men in rowing or marching, a sort of row-brothers-row or hip-hip of marching soldiers. October 18 was about half sunshine, half rain and wet snow. But we paddled on through the midst of the innumerable islands in more than half comfort, enjoying the changing effects of the weather on the dripping wilderness. Strolling a little way back into the woods when we went ashore for luncheon, I found fine specimens of cedar and here and there a birch and small thickets of wild apple. A hemlock, felled by Indians for bread-bark, was only 20 inches thick at the butt, 120 feet long and about 540 years old at the time it was felled. The first hundred of its rings measured only four inches, showing that for a century it had grown in the shade of taller trees and at the age of 100 years was yet only a sapling in size. On the mossy trunk of an old prostrate spruce about 100 feet in length, thousands of seedlings were growing. I counted 700 on a length of 8 feet, so favorable is this climate for the development of tree seeds and so fully do these seeds obey the command to multiply and replenish the earth. No wonder these islands are densely clothed with trees. They grow on solid rocks and logs as well as on fertile soil. The surface is first covered with a plush of mosses in which the seeds germinate, then the interlacing roots form a sod, fallen leaves soon cover their feet and the young trees closely crowded together support each other and the soil becomes deeper and richer from year to year. I greatly enjoyed the Indians campfire talk this evening on their ancient customs. How they were taught by their parents, how the whites came among them, their religion, ideas connected with the next world, the stars, plants, the behavior and language of animals under different circumstances, manner of getting a living, etc. When their talk was interrupted by the howling of a wolf on the opposite side of the Strait, Kadachan puzzled the minister with the question, Have wolf souls? The Indians believe that they have, giving us foundation for their belief that they are wise creatures who know how to catch seals and salmon by swimming slyly upon them with their heads hidden in the mouth full of grass, hunt deers in company and always bring forth their young at the same and most favorable time of the year. I inquired how it was that with enemies so wise and powerful the deer were not all killed. Kadachan replied that wolves knew better than to kill them all and thus cut off their most important food supply. He said they were numerous on the large islands, more so than on the mainland, that Indian hunters were afraid of them and never ventured far into the woods alone for these large grey and black wolves attacked man whether they were hungry or not. When attacked the Indian hunter, he said, climbed a tree or stood with his back against a tree or rock as a wolf never attacks face to face. Wolves are not bears, Indians regard as masters of the woods, for they sometimes attack and kill bears, but the Wolverine they never attack. Four, said John, wolves and Wolverines are companions in sin and equally wicked and cunning. On one of the small islands we found a stockade, 60 by 35 feet, built, our Indians said, by the cake tribe during one of their many warlike quarrels. Tyatt and Kadachan said these forts were common throughout the canoe waters, showing that in this food full kindly wilderness, as in all the world beside, man may be man's worst enemy. We discovered small bits of cultivation here and there, patches of potatoes and turnips, planted mostly on the cleared sites of deserted villages. In spring the most industrious families sailed to their little farms of perhaps a quarter of an acre or less, and 10 or 15 miles from their villages. After preparing the ground and planting it, they visited it again in summer to pull the weeds and speculate on the size of the crop they were likely to have to eat with their fat salmon. The cakes were then busy digging their potatoes, which they complained were this year injured by early frosts. We arrived at Kluge Khan, one of the Kupronov keg villages, just as a funeral party was breaking up. The body had been burned and gifts were being distributed, bits of calico, handkerchiefs, blankets, etc., according to the rank and wealth of the deceased. The death ceremonies of chiefs and head men, Mr Young told me, are very weird and imposing, with wild feasting, dancing and singing. At this little place there are some eight totem poles of bold and intricate design, well executed, but smaller than those of the stick-eens. As elsewhere throughout the archipelago, the bear, raven, eagle, salmon and porpoise are the chief figures. Some of the poles have square cavities mortised into the back, which are said to contain the ashes of members of the family. These recesses are closed by a plug. I noticed one that was corked with a rag where the joint was imperfect. Strolling about the village, looking at the tangled vegetation, sketching the totems, etc., I found a lot of human bones scattered on the surface of the ground, or partly covered. In answer to my enquiries one of our crew said they probably belonged to Sitka Indians, slain in war. These cakes are shrewd, industrious and rather good-looking people. It was at their largest village that an American schooner was seized and all the crew except one man murdered. A gunboat sent to punish them burned the village. I saw the anchor of the ill-fated vessel lying near the shore, though all the flinket tribes believe in witchcraft. They are less superstitious in some respects than many of the lower classes of whites. Chief Yana Tawak seemed to take pleasure in kicking the Sitka bones that lay in his way, and neither old nor young showed the slightest trace of superstitious fear of the dead at any time. It was at the northmost of the Kuprenov cake villages that Misty Young held his first missionary meeting, singing hymns, praying and preaching, and trying to learn the number of the inhabitants. And their readiness to receive instruction. Neither here nor in any of the other villages of the different tribes that we visited was there anything like a distinct refusal to receive schoolteachers or ministers. On the contrary, with but one or two exceptions all with apparent good faith declared their willingness to receive them, and many seemed heartily delighted at the prospect of gaining light on subjects so important and so dark to them. All had heard ere this of the wonderful work of the Reverend Mr. Duncan at Metler-Catler, and even those chiefs who were not at all inclined to anything like piety were yet anxious to procure schools and churches that their people should not miss the temporal advantages of knowledge, which with their natural shrewdness they were not slow to recognize. We are all children, they said, groping in the dark. Give us this light, and we will do as you bid us. The chief of the first Kuprenov cake village we came to was a venerable looking man, perhaps seventy years old, with massive head and strongly marked features. A bold Roman nose, deep tranquil eyes, shaggy eyebrows, a strong face set in a halo of long grey hair. He seemed delighted at the prospect of receiving a teacher for his people. This is just what I want, he said. I am ready to bid him welcome. This, said Yana Tawak, chief of the larger north village, is a good word you bring us. We will be glad to come out of our darkness into your light. You Boston men must be favourites of the great father. You know all about God and ships and guns and the growing of things to eat. We will sit quiet and listen to the words of any teacher you send us. While Mr Young was preaching some of the congregations smoked, talked to each other and answered the shouts of their companions outside, greatly to the disgust of Tyat and Kadachan, who regarded the cakes as maniless barbarians.  She cried in a strange, low, wild tone, quite unlike the screech crying of the children of civilisation. The following morning we crossed Prince Frederick Sound to the west coast of Admiralty Island. Our frail shell of a canoe was tossed like a bubble on the swells coming in from the ocean. Still I suppose the danger was not so great as it seemed. In a good canoe skillfully handled you may safely sail from Victoria to Chilkat, a thousand mile voyage frequently made by Indians in their trading operations before the coming of the whites. Our Indians, however, dreaded this crossing so late in the season. They spoke of it repeatedly before we reached it as the one great danger of our voyage. John said to me just as we left the shore, you and Mr Young will be scared to death on this broad water. Never mind us, John, we merrily replied. Perhaps some of your brave Indian sailors may be the first to show fear. Toyat said he had not slept well a single night thinking of it, and after we rounded Cape Gardner and entered the comparatively smooth Chatham Strait they all rejoiced laughing and chatting like frolics and children. We arrived at the first of the Hootsanoo villages on Admiralty Island shortly afternoon and were welcomed by everybody. Men, women and children made haste to the beach to meet us, the children staring as if they had never before seen a Boston man. The chief, a remarkably good looking and intelligent fellow, stepped forward, shook hands with us Boston fashion, and invited us to his house. Some of the curious children crowded in after us and stood around the fire staring like half-fried and wild animals. Two old women drove them out of the house making hideous gestures but taking good care not to hurt them. The merry throng poured through the round door laughing and enjoying the harsh gestures and threats of the women as all a joke indicating mild parental government in general. Indeed in all my travels I never saw a child old or young receive a blow or even a harsh word. When our cook began to prepare luncheon our host said through his interpreter that he was sorry we could not eat Indian food as he was anxious to entertain us. We thanked him of course and expressed our sense of his kindness. His brother in the meantime brought a dozen turnips which he peeled and sliced and served in a clean dish. These we ate raw as dessert reminding me of turnip field feasts when I was a boy in Scotland. Then a box was brought from some corner and opened. It seemed to be full of tallow or butter. A sharp stick was thrust into it and a lump of something five or six inches long three or four wide and an inch thick was dug up which proved to be a section of the back fat of a deer preserved in fish oil and seasoned with boiled spruce and other spicy roots. After stripping off the lard like oil it was cut into small pieces and passed around. It seemed white and wholesome but I was unable to taste it even for man's sake. This disgust however was not noticed as the rest of the company did full justice to the precious tallow and smacked their lips over it as a great delicacy. A lot of potatoes about the size of walnuts boiled and peeled and added to a pot full of salmon made a savoury stew that all seemed to relish. An old cross looking wrinkled crone presided at the steaming chaired pot and as she peeled the potatoes with her fingers she at short intervals quickly thrust one of the best into the mouth of a little wild eyed girl that crouched beside her. A spark of natural love which charmed her withered face and made all the big gloomy house shine. In honour of her visit our host put on a genuine white shirt. His wife also dressed in her best and put on a pair of dainty trousers on her two year old boy who seemed to be the pet and favourite of the large family and indeed of the whole village. Toward evening messengers were sent through the village to call everybody to a meeting. Mr Young delivered the usual missionary sermon and I was also called on to say something. Then the chief arose and made an eloquent reply thanking us for our good words and for the hopes we had inspired of obtaining a teacher for their children. In particular he said he wanted to hear all we could tell him about God. This village was an offshoot of a larger one ten miles to the north called Kilisnu. Under the prevailing patriarchal form of government each tribe is divided into comparatively few families and because of quarrels the chief of this branch moved his people to this little bay where the beach offered a good landing for canoes. A stream which enters it yields abundance of salmon while in the adjacent woods and mountains berries, deer and wild goats abound. Here he said we enjoy peace and plenty all we lack is a church and a school particularly a school for the children. He's dwelling so much with benevolent aspect on the children of the tribe showed. I think that he truly loved them and had a right intelligent insight concerning their welfare. We spent the night under his roof the first we had ever spent with Indians and I never felt more at home. The loving kindness bestowed on the little ones made the house glow. Next morning with the hearty good wishes of our hoots and new friends and encouraged by the gentle weather we sailed gladly up the coast hoping soon to see the chill-cut glaciers in their glory. The rock hereabouts is mostly a beautiful blue marble, waveworn into a multitude of small coves and ledges. Fine sections were thus revealed along the shore which with their colours brightened with showers and lake blooming leaves and flowers beguiled the weariness of the way. The shingle in front of these marble cliffs is also mostly marble, well polished and rounded and mixed with a small percentage of glacier born slate and granite erratics. We arrived at the upper village about half past one o'clock. Here we saw hoots and new Indians in a very different light from that which illuminated the lower village. While we were yet half a mile or more away we heard sands I had never before heard. A storm of strange howls, yells and screams rising from a base of gasping, bellowing grunts and groans. Had I been alone I should have fled as from a pack of fiends but our Indians quietly recognised this awful sound if such stuff could be called sound simply as the whiskey howl and pushed quietly on. As we approached the landing the demonic howling so greatly increased I tried to dissuade Mr Young from attempting to say a single word in the village and as for preaching one might as well try to teach in tough it. The whole village was a fire with bad whiskey. This was the first time in my life that I learned the meaning of a phrase a howling drunk. Even our Indians hesitated to venture ashore not withstanding whiskey storms were far from novel to them. Mr Young however hoped that in this Indian Sodom at least one man might be found so righteous as to be in his right mind and able to give trustworthy information. Therefore I was at length prevailed on to yield consent to land. Our canoe was drawn up on the beach and one of the crew left to guard it. Cautiously we strolled up the hill to the main row of houses now a chain of alcoholic volcanoes. The largest house just opposite the landing was about forty feet square built of immense planks each shewn from a whole log and as usual the only opening was a mere hole about two and a half feet in diameter closed by a massive hinged plug like the breach of a cannon. At the dark door hole a few black faces appeared and were suddenly withdrawn not a single person was to be seen on the street. At length a couple of old crouching men hideously blackened ventured out and stared at us then calling to their companions other black and burning heads appeared and we began to fear that like the other way Kirk witches the whole Legion was about to sally forth. But instead those outside suddenly crawled and tumbled in again. We were thus allowed to take a general view of the place and return to our canoe on molested. But here we could get away three old women came swaggering and grinning down to the beach and Toyat who was discovered by a man with whom he had once had a business misunderstanding. Who burning for revenge was now jumping and howling and threatening as only a drunken Indian may while our heroic old captain in severe icy majesty stood erect and motionless uttering never a word. Catachan on the contrary was well nice smothered with the drunken caresses of one of his father's telecoms friends who insisted on his going back with him into the house. But reversing the words of Saint Paul in his account of his shipwreck it came to pass that we all at length got safe to see and by hard rowing managed to reach a fine harbour before dark fifteen sweet serene miles from the howlers. Our camp this evening was made at the head of a narrow bay bordered by spruce and hemlock woods. We made our beds beneath a grand old sitka spruce five feet in diameter whose broad wing like branches were outspread immediately above our heads. The night picture as I stood back to see it in the firelight was this one great tree relieved against the gloom of the woods back of it. The light on the low branches revealing the shining needles the brown sturdy trunk grasping an out swelling mossy bank and a fringe of illuminated bushes within a few feet of the tree with the firelight on the tips of the sprays. Next morning soon after we left our harbour we were caught in a violent gust of wind and dragged over the seething water in a passionate hurry though our sail was close reefed. Flying past the grey headlands in most exhilarating style until fear of being capsized made us drop our sail and run into the first little nook we came to for shelter. Captain Toyat remarked that in this kind of wind no Indian would dream of travelling but since Mr. Young and I were with him he was willing to go on because he was sure that the Lord loved us and would not allow us to perish. We were there within a day or two of Chilkat. We had only to hold a direct course up the beautiful Lynn canal to reach the large Davidson and other glaciers at its head in the canyons of the Chilkat and Chilkoot River. But rumours of trouble among the Indians there now reached us. We found a party taking shelter from the stormy wind in a little cove who confirmed the bad news that the Chilkats were drinking and fighting that Kadachan's father had been shot and that it would be far from safe to venture among them until blood money had been paid and the quarrel settled. I decided therefore in the meantime to turn westward and go in search of the wonderful ice mountains that Sitka Charlie had been telling us about. Charlie, the youngest of my crew, noticing my interesting glaciers, said that when he was a boy he had gone with his father to hunt seals in a large bay full of ice and that though it was long since he had been there he thought he could find his way to it. Accordingly we pushed eagerly on across Chatham Strait to the north end of Icy Strait toward the new and promising ice field. On the south side of Icy Strait we ran into a picturesque bay to visit the main village of the Hoonah tribe. Rounding a point in the north shore of the bay the charmingly located village came in sight with a group of the inhabitants gazing at us as we approached. They evidently recognized us as strangers or visitors from the shape and style of our canoe and perhaps even determining that white men were aboard for these Indians have wonderful eyes. While we were yet half a mile off we saw a flag unfurled on a tall mast in front of the chief's house. Toyat hoisted his United States flag in reply and thus arrayed we made for the landing. Here we were met and received by the chief, Cachotto, who stood close to the water's edge barefooted and bareheaded but wearing so fine a robe and standing so grave, erect and serene his dignity was complete. No white man could have maintained sane dignity under circumstances so disadvantageous. After the usual formal salutations the chief still standing as erect and motionless as a tree said that he was not much acquainted with our people and feared that his house was too mean for visitors so distinguished as we were. We hastened of course to assure him that we were not proud of heart and would be glad to have the honor of his hospitality and friendship. With a smile of relief he then led us into his large fort house to the seat of honor prepared for us. After we had been allowed to rest unnoticed and unquestioned for fifteen minutes or so in accordance with good Indian manners in case we should be weary or embarrassed, our cook began to prepare luncheon and the chief expressed great concern that he's not being able to entertain us in Boston fashion. Luncheon over Mr. Young as usual requested him to call his people to a meeting. Most of them were away at outlying camps gathering winter stores. Some ten or twelve men however about the same number of women and a crowd of wandering boys and girls were gathered in to whom Mr. Young preached the usual gospel sermon. Toyat prayed in Tlingit and the other members of the crew joined in the hymn singing. At the close of the mission exercises the chief arose and said that he would now like to hear what the other white chief had to say. I directed John to reply that I was not a missionary, that I came only to pay a friendly visit and see the forests and mountains of their beautiful country. To this he replied as others had done in the same circumstances that he would like to hear me on the subject of their country and themselves, so I had to get on my feet and make some sort of a speech dwelling principally on the brotherhood of all races of people, assuring them that God loved them and that some of their white brethren were beginning to know them and become interested in their welfare, that I seemed this evening to be among old friends with whom I had long been acquainted, though I had never been here before, that I would also remember them and the kind reception they had given us, advised them to heed the instructions of sincere, self-defying mission men who wished only to do them good and desired nothing but their friendship and welfare in return. I told them that in some far-off countries, instead of receiving the missionaries with glad and thankful hearts, the Indians killed and ate them, but I hoped and indeed felt sure that his people would find better use for missionaries than putting them like salmon in pots for food. They seemed greatly interested, looking into each other's faces with emphatic nods and ah-ahs and smiles. The chief then slowly arose and, after standing silent a minute or two, told us how glad he was to see us, that he felt as if his heart had enjoyed a good meal and that we were the first to come humbly to his little out-of-the-way village to tell his people about God, that they were all like children groping in darkness but eager for light, that they would gladly welcome a missionary and teacher and use them well, that he could easily believe that whites and Indians were the children of one father just as I had told them in my speech, that they differed little and resembled each other a great deal, calling attention to the similarity of hands, eyes, legs, etc., making telling gestures in the most natural style of eloquence and dignified composure. Oftentimes he said, when I was on the high mountain in the fall, hunting wild sheep for meat and for wool to make blankets, I have been caught in snowstorms and held in camp until there was nothing to eat, but when I reached my home and got warm and had a good meal, then my body felt good. For a long time my heart has been hungry and cold, but tonight your words have warmed my heart and given it a good meal and now my heart feels good. The most striking characteristic of these people is their serene dignity in circumstances that to us would be novel and embarrassing. Even the little children behave with natural dignity. Come to the white men when called and restrain their wonder at the strange prayers, hymn singing, etc. This evening an old woman fell asleep in the meeting and began to snore, and though both old and young were shaken with suppressed mirth, they evidently took great pains to conceal it. It seems wonderful to me that these so-called savages can make one feel at home in their families. In good breeding, intelligence and skill in accomplishing whatever they try to do with their tools, they seem to me to rank above most of our uneducated white laborers. I have never yet seen a child ill-used, even to the extent of an angry word. Scalding so common a curse in civilization is not known here at all. On the contrary, the younger fondly indulged without being spoiled, crying is very rarely heard. In the house of this Hoonah chief, a pet marmot, Paris, was a great favorite with old and young. It was therefore delightfully confiding and playful and human. Cats were petted, and the confidence with which these cautious, thoughtful animals met strangers showed that they were kindly treated. There were some ten or a dozen houses all told in the village. The count, made by the chief for Mr. Young, showed some seven hundred and twenty-five persons in the tribe. End of Chapter 9. Recording by Robert White. Chapter 10 of Travels in Alaska. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information, or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Adam Marcetic, Alexandria, Virginia, 2010. Travels in Alaska by John Muir. Chapter 7. Chapter 10. The Discovery of Glacier Bay. From here, on October 24, we set sail for Guide Charlie's Ice Mountains. The handle of our heaviest axe was cracked, and as Charlie declared that there was no firewood to be had in the big Ice Mountain Bay, we would have had to load the canoe with a store for cooking at an island out in the straight a few miles from the village. We were therefore anxious to buy or trade for a good sound axe in exchange for our broken one. Good axes are rare in rocky Alaska. Soon or late, an unlucky stroke on a stone concealed in moss spoils the edge. Finally, one in almost perfect condition was offered by a young hoona for our broken handled one, and a half dollar to boot. But when the broken axe and money were given, he promptly demanded an additional 25 cents worth of tobacco. The tobacco was given him, then he required a half dollars worth more of tobacco, which was also given, but when he still demanded something more, Charlie's patience gave way, and we sailed in the same condition as to axes as when we arrived. This was the only contemptible commercial affair we encountered among these Alaskan Indians. We reached the wooded island about one o'clock, made coffee, took on a store of wood, and set sail direct for the icy country, finding it very hard indeed to believe the woodless part of Charlie's description of the icy bay so heavily and uniformly are all the shores forested wherever we had been. In this view, we were joined by John, Karachan, and Toyate, none of them on all their lifelong canoe travels having ever seen a woodless country. We held a northwesterly course, until long after dark, when we reached a small inlet that sets in near the mouth of Glacier Bay, on the west side. Here we made a cold camp on a desolate, snow-covered beach, in stormy sleet and darkness. At daybreak, I looked eagerly in every direction to learn what kind of place we were in, but gloomy rain clouds covered the mountains, and I could see nothing that would give me a clue, while Vancouver's chart hitherto a faithful guide, here failed us all together. Nevertheless, we made haste to be off, and fortunately, for just as we were leaving the shore, a faint smoke was seen across the inlet, toward which Charlie, who now seemed lost, gladly steered. Our sudden appearance so early that gray morning had evidently alarmed our neighbors, for as soon as we were within hailing distance, an Indian with his face blackened, fired a shot over our heads, and in a blunt, bellowing voice roared, Who are you? Our interpreter shouted, Friends, and the fort wrangle missionary. Then men, women and children, swarmed out of the hut, and awaited our approach on the beach, one of the hunters, having brought his gun with him, Karachan, sternly rebuked him, asking with superb indignation whether he was not ashamed to meet a missionary with a gun in his hands. Friendly relations, however, were speedily established, and as a cold rain was falling, they invited us to enter their hut. It seemed very small, and was jammed full of oily boxes and bundles. Nevertheless, twenty-one persons managed to find shelter in it, about a smoky fire. Our hosts proved to be Huna seal hunters, laying in their winter stores of meat and skins. The packed hut was passably well ventilated, but its heavy, meaty smells were not the same to our noses, as those we were accustomed to in sprucey nooks of the evergreen woods. The circle of black eyes, peering at us through a fog of reek and smoke, made a novel picture. We were glad, however, to get within reach of information, and of course, asked many questions concerning the Ice Mountains and the Strange Bay, to most of which our inquisitive Huna friends replied with counter-questions as to our object in coming to such a place, especially so late in the year. They had heard of Mr. Young and his work at Fort Rangel, but could not understand what a missionary could be doing in such a place as this. Was he going to preach to the seals and galls, they asked, or to the Ice Mountains, and could they take his word? Then John explained that only the friend of the missionary was seeking Ice Mountains, that Mr. Young had already preached many good words in the villages we had visited, their own among the others, that our hearts were good and every Indian was our friend. Then we gave them a little rice, sugar, tea, and tobacco, after which they began to gain confidence and to speak freely. They told us that the big bay was called by them Sit Adake, or Ice Bay, that there were many large Ice Mountains in it, but no gold mines, and that the Ice Mountain they knew best was at the head of the bay, where most of the seals were found. Notwithstanding the rain, I was anxious to push on and grope our way beneath the clouds as best we could, in case worse weather should come. But Charlie was ill at ease, and wanted one of the seal hunters to go with us, for the place was much changed. I promised to pay well for a guide, and in order to lighten the canoe, proposed to leave most of our heavy stores in the hut until our return. After a long consultation, one of them consented to go. His wife got ready his blanket and a piece of cedar matting for his bed, some provisions, mostly dried salmon, and seal sausage made of strips of lean meat, plated around a core of fat. She followed us to the beach, and, just as we were pushing off, said with a pretty smile, It is my husband that you are taking away, see that you bring him back. We got under way about ten a.m., the wind was in our favor, but a cold rain pelted us, and we could see but little of the dreary, treeless wilderness which we had now fairly entered. The bitter blast, however, gave us good speed. Our bedraggled canoe rose and fell on the waves as solemnly as a big ship. Our course was northwestward, up the southwest side of the bay, near the shore of what seemed to be the mainland, smooth marble islands being on our right. About noon we discovered the first of the great glaciers, the one I, afterward, named for James Geikey, the noted Scotch geologist, its lofty blue cliffs, looming through the draggled skirts of the clouds, gave a tremendous impression of savage power, while the roar of the newborn icebergs thickened and emphasized the general roar of the storm. An hour and a half beyond the Geikey Glacier, we ran into a slight harbor where the shore is low, dragged the canoe beyond the reach of drifting icebergs, and, much against my desire to push ahead, and camped, the guide insisting that the big ice mountain at the head of the bay could not be reached before dark, and the landing there was dangerous, even in daylight, and that this was the only safe harbor on the way to it. While camp was being made, I strolled along the shore to examine the rocks and the fossil timber that abounds here. All the rocks are freshly glaciated, even below the sea level, nor have the waves as yet worn off the surface polish, much less the heavy scratches and grooves and lines of glacial contour. The next day, being Sunday, the minister wished to stay in camp, and so, on account of the weather, did the Indians. I therefore set out on an excursion, and spent the day alone on the mountaintops above the camp, and northward to see what I might learn. Pushing on through rain and mud and sludgy snow, crossing many brown, bolder choked torrents, wading, jumping, and wallowing in snow up to my shoulders, was mountaineering of the most trying kind. After crouching, cramped, and benumbed in the canoe, poltest in wet or damp clothing night and day, my limbs had been asleep. This day they were awakened, and, in the hour of trial, proved that they had not lost the cunning learned on many a mountain peak of the high Sierra, a reach to height of fifteen hundred feet, on the ridge that bounds the second of the great glaciers. All the landscape was smothered in clouds, and I began to fear that, as far as wide views were concerned, I had climbed in vain. But at length, the clouds lifted a little, and beneath their gray fringes, I saw the burg filled expanse of the bay, and the feet of the mountains that stand about it, and the imposing fronts of five huge glaciers, the nearest being immediately beneath me. This was my first general view of Glacier Bay, a solitude of ice and snow, and newborn rocks, dim, dreary, mysterious. I held the ground I had so dearly won, for an hour or two, sheltering myself from the blast as best I could, while, with benumbed fingers, I sketched what I could see of the landscape, and wrote a few lines in my notebook. Then, breasting the snow again, crossing the shifting avalanche slopes and torrents, I reached camp about dark, wet and weary and glad. While I was getting some coffee and hard-tack, Mr. Young told me that the Indians were discouraged, and had been talking about turning back, fearing that I would be lost, the canoe broken, or in some other mysterious way the expedition would come to grief if I persisted in going farther. They had been asking him what possible motive I could have in climbing mountains when storms were blowing, and when he replied that I was only seeking knowledge, Toyate said, Mure must be a witch to seek knowledge in such a place as this, and in such miserable weather. After supper, crouching about a dull fire of fossil wood, they became still more doleful, and talked in tones that accorded well with the wind and waters, and growling torrents about us, telling sad old stories of crushed canoes, drowned Indians, and hunters frozen in snowstorms. Even brave old Toyate, dreading the treeless, forlorn appearance of the region, said that his heart was not strong, and that he feared his canoe. On the safety of which our lives depended, might be entering a skookum house, jail, of ice, from which there might be no escape, while the Hunagide said bluntly that if I was so fond of danger, and meant to go close up to the noses of the ice mountains, he would not consent to go any farther, for we should all be lost, as many of his tribe had been, by the sudden rising of birds from the bottom. They seemed to be losing heart, with every howl of the wind, and, fearing that they might fail me now that I was in the midst of so grand a congregation of glaciers, I made haste to reassure them, telling them that for ten years I had wandered alone, among mountains and storms, and good luck always followed me, that with me, therefore, they need fear nothing. The storm would soon cease, and the sun would shine to show us the way we should go, for God cares for us, and guides us as long as we are trustful and brave, therefore all childish fear must be put away. This little speech did good. Kadachan, with some show of enthusiasm, said he liked to travel with good luck people, and dignified Old Toyate declared that now his heart was strong again, and he would venture on with me, as far as I liked, for my Wawa was delayed. My talk was very good. The old warrior even became a little sentimental, and said that even if the canoe was broken, he would not greatly care, because on the way to the other world he would have good companions. Next morning it was still raining and snowing, but the south wind swept us bravely forward, and swept the bergs from our course. In about an hour we reached the second of the big glaciers, which I afterwards named for Hugh Miller. We rode up its fjord, and landed to make a slight examination of its grand frontal wall. The berg-producing portion we found to be about a mile and a half wide, and broken into an imposing array of jagged spires and pyramids, and flat-top towers and battlements, of many shades of blue, from pale, shimmering, limpid tones in the crevasses and hollows, to the most startling, chilling, almost shrieking vitriol blue on the plain mural spaces, from which bergs had just been discharged. Back from the front for a few miles the glacier rises in a series of wide steps, as if this portion of the glacier had sunk in successive sections as it reached deep water, and the sea had found its way beneath it. Beyond this it extends indefinitely in a gently rising prairie-like expanse, and branches along the slopes and canyons of the fair weather range. From here a run of two hours brought us to the head of the bay, and to the mouth of the northwest fjord, at the head of which lie the Huna ceiling grounds, and the great glacier now called the Pacific, and another called the Huna. The fjord is about five miles long, and two miles wide at the mouth. Here our Huna guide had a store of dry wood, which we took aboard. Then, setting sail, we were driven wildly up the fjord, as if the storm wind were saying, go then, if you will, into my icy chamber, but you shall stay in until I am ready to let you out. All this time sleety rain was falling on the bay, and snow on the mountains, but soon after we landed the sky began to open. The camp was made on a rocky beach near the front of the Pacific glacier, and the canoe was carried beyond the reach of the bergs and berg waves. The bergs were now crowded in a dense pack against the discharging front, as if the storm wind had determined to make the glacier take back her crystal offspring and keep them at home. While camp affairs were being attended to, I set out to climb a mountain for comprehensive views, and before I had reached a height of a thousand feet the rain ceased, and the clouds began to rise from the lower altitudes, slowly lifting their white skirts, lingering in majestic, wing-shaped masses about the mountains that rise out of the broad icy sea, the highest of all the white mountains, and the greatest of the glaciers I had yet seen. Climbing higher for a still broader outlook, I made notes and sketched, improving the precious time, while sunshine streamed through the luminous fringes of the clouds, and fell on the green waters of the fjord, the glittering bergs, the crystal bluffs of the vast glacier, the intensely white, far-spreading fields of ice, and the ineffable chaste and spiritual heights of the fair weather range, which were now hidden, now partly revealed, the whole making a picture of icy wildness unspeakably pure and sublime. Looking southward, a broad ice sheet was seen extending in a gently undulating plain, from the Pacific Fjord in the foreground to the horizon, dotted and ridged here and there with mountains which were as white as the snow-covered ice, in which they were half, or more than half, submerged. Several of the great glaciers of the bay flow from this one grand fountain. It is an instinctive example of a general glacier covering the hills and dales of a country that is not yet ready to be brought to the light of day. Not only covering, but creating a landscape with the features it is destined to have when, in the fullness of time, the fashioning ice sheet shall be lifted by the sun, and the land become warm and fruitful. The view to the westward is bounded and almost filled by the glorious fair-weather mountains, the highest among them, springing aloft in sublime beauty, to a height of nearly sixteen thousand feet, while, from base to summit, every peak and spire and dividing range of all the mighty host was spotless white, as if painted. It would seem that snow could never be made to lie on the steepest slopes and precipices, unless plastered on when wet and then frozen. But this snow could not have been wet. It must have been fixed by being driven and set in small particles, like the storm dust of drifts, which, when in this condition, is fixed not only on sheer cliffs, but in massive, over-curling cornices. Along the base of this majestic range sweeps the Pacific Glacier, fed by innumerable cascading tributaries, and discharging into the head of its fjord, by two mouths only partly separated by the brow of an island rock about one thousand feet high, each nearly a mile wide. Dancing down the mountain to camp, my mind glowing like the sun-beaten glaciers, I found the Indians seated around a good fire, entirely happy now, that the farthest point of the journey was safely reached, and the long dark storm was cleared away. How, hopefully, peacefully bright that night were the stars in the frosty sky, and how impressive was the thunder of the icebergs, rolling, swelling, reverberating through the solemn stillness. I was too happy to sleep. About daylight next morning, we crossed the fjord and landed on the south side of the rock that divides the wall of the Great Glacier. The whiskered faces of seals dotted the open spaces between the birds, and I could not prevent John and Charlie and Katachan from shooting at them. Fortunately, few, if any, were hurt. Leaving the Indians in charge of the canoe, I managed to climb to the top of the wall by a good deal of step-cutting between the ice and dividing rock, and gained a good general view of the glacier. At one favorable place, I descended about fifty feet below the side of the glacier, where its denuding, fashioning action was clearly shown. Pushing back from here, I found the surface crevast and sunken in steps, like the Hugh Miller Glacier, as if it were being undermined by the action of tide waters. For a distance of fifteen or twenty miles, the river-like ice flood is nearly level, and when it recedes, the ocean water will follow it, and thus form a long extension of the fjord, with features essentially the same as those now extending into the continent farther south, where many great glaciers once poured into the sea, though scarce a vestige of them now exists. Thus, the domain of the sea has been, and is being, extended in these ice-sculpted lands, and the scenery of their shores enriched. The brow of the dividing rock is about a thousand feet high, and is hard to be set by the glacier. A short time ago, it was at least two thousand feet below the surface of the over-sweeping ice, and under present climactic conditions, it will soon take its place as a glacier-polished island in the middle of the fjord, like a thousand others in the magnificent archipelago. It gives a most telling illustration of the birth of a marked feature of a landscape. In this instance, it is not the mountain, but the glacier that is in labor, and the mountain itself is being brought forth. The Huna Glacier enters the fjord on the south side, a short distance below the Pacific, displaying a broad and far-reaching expanse over which many lofty peaks are seen. But the front wall, thrust into the fjord, is not nearly so interesting as that of the Pacific, and I did not observe any bergs discharged from it. In the evening, after witnessing the unveiling of the majestic peaks and glaciers, and their baptism in the downpouring sunbeams, it seemed inconceivable that nature could have anything finer to show us. Nevertheless, compared with what was to come the next morning, all that was as nothing. The calm dawn gave no promise of anything uncommon. Its most impressive features were the frosty clearness of the sky, and a deep, brooding stillness made all the more striking by the thunder of the newborn bergs. The sunrise, we did not see at all, for we were beneath the shadows of the fjord cliffs. But in the midst of our studies, while the Indians were getting ready to sail, we were startled by the sudden appearance of a red light burning with a strange, unearthly splendor on the topmost peak of the fair-weather mountains. Instead of vanishing as suddenly as it had appeared, it spread and spread until the whole range, down to the level of the glaciers, was filled with the celestial fire. In color, it was at first a vivid crimson, with a thick furred appearance, as fine as the alpine glow, yet indescribably rich and deep, not in the least like a garment or mere external flush or bloom through which one might expect to see the rocks or snow. But every mountain apparently was glowing from the heart, like molten metal fresh from a furnace. Beneath the frosty shadows of the fjord, we stood hushed and awe-stricken, gazing at the holy vision, and had we seen the heavens opened and God made manifest, our attention could not have been more tremendously strained. When the highest peak began to burn, it did not seem to be steeped in sunshine, however glorious, but rather as if it had been thrust into the body of the sun itself. Then the supernal fire slowly descended, with a sharp line of demarcation separating it from the cold, shaded region beneath. Peak after peak, with their spires and ridges and cascading glaciers, caught the heavenly glow, until all the mighty host stood transfigured, hushed, and thoughtful, as if awaiting the coming of the Lord. The white, rayless light of the morning, seen when I was alone, amid the peaks of the California Sierra, had always seemed to me the most telling of all the terrestrial manifestations of God. But here the mountains themselves were made divine, and declared his glory in terms still more impressive, how long we gazed I never knew. The glorious vision passed away in a gradual, fading change, through a thousand tones of color, to pale yellow and white, and then the work of the ice world went on again in everyday beauty. The green waters of the fjord were filled with sun's spangles, the fleet of icebergs set forth on their voyages with the up-springing breeze, and on the innumerable mirrors and prisms of these bergs, and on those of the shattered crystal walls of the glaciers, common white light and rainbow light began to burn, while the mountains shone in their frosty jewelry, and loomed again in the thin azure in serene terrestrial majesty. We turned and sailed away, joining the outgoing bergs, while Gloria in excelsis still seemed to be sounding over all the white landscape, and our burning hearts were ready for any fate, feeling that, whatever the future might have in store, the treasures we had gained this glorious morning would enrich our lives forever. When we arrived at the mouth of the fjord, and rounded the massive granite headland that stands guard at the entrance on the north side, another large glacier, now named the reed, was discovered at the head of one of the northern branches of the bay. Pushing ahead into this new fjord, we found that it was not only packed with bergs, but that the spaces between the bergs were crusted with new ice, compelling us to turn back, while we were yet several miles from the discharging frontal wall. But, though we were not then allowed to set foot on this magnificent glacier, we obtained a fine view of it, and I made the Indians cease rowing, while I sketched its principal features. Thence, after steering northeastward a few miles, we discovered still another large glacier, now named the carol, but the fjord into which this glacier flows was, like the last, utterly inaccessible on a count of ice, and we had to be content with the general view and sketch of it, gained as we rode slowly past, at a distance of three or four miles. The mountains back of it, and on each side of its inlet, are sculpted in a singularly rich and striking style of architecture, in which our subordinate peaks and gables appear in wonderful profusion, and an imposing conical mountain with a wide, smooth base, stands out in the main current of the glacier, a mile or two back from the discharging ice wall. We now turned southward down the eastern shore of the bay, and, in an hour or two, discovered a glacier of the second class, at the head of a comparatively short fjord that winter had not yet closed. Here we landed and climbed across a mile or so of rough boulder beds, and back upon the wildly broken, receding front of the glacier, which, though it descends to the level of the sea, no longer sends off bergs. Many large masses, detached from the wasting front by regular melting, were partly buried beneath mud, sand, gravel, and boulders of the terminal moraine. Thus protected, these fossil icebergs remain unmelted for many years, some of them for a century or more, as shown by the age of trees growing above them, though there are no trees here as yet. At length, melting, a pit with sloping slides is formed by the falling in of the overlaying moraine material into the space at first occupied by the buried ice. In this way are formed the curious depressions in drift-covered regions called kettles or sinks. On these decaying glaciers, we may also find many interesting lessons on the formation of boulders and boulder beds, which, in all glaciated countries, exert a marked influence on scenery, health, and fruitfulness. Three or four miles farther down the bay, we came to another fjord, up which we sailed in quest of more glaciers, discovering one in each of the two branches into which the fjord divides. Neither of these glaciers quite reaches tied water. Notwithstanding the apparent fruitfulness of their fountains, they are in the first stage of decadence, the waste from melting and evaporation being greater now than the supply of new ice from their snowy fountains. We reached the one in the north branch, climbed over its wrinkled brow, and gained a good view of the trunk, and some of the tributaries, and also of the sublime gray cliffs of its channel. Then we sailed up the south branch of the inlet, but failed to reach the glacier there, on account of a thin sheet of new ice. With the tent poles, we broke a lane for the canoe for a little distance, but it was slow work, and we soon saw that we could not reach the glacier before dark. Nevertheless, we gained a fair view of it as it came sweeping down through its gigantic gateway of massive Yosemite rocks three or four thousand feet high. Here we lingered until sundown, gazing and sketching, then turned back, and encamped on a bed of cobblestones between the forks of the road. We gathered a lot of fossil wood, and after supper made a big fire, and as we sat around it, the brightness of the sky brought on a long talk with the Indians about the stars, and their eager, childlike attention was refreshing to see as compared with the deathlike apathy of weary town dwellers, in whom natural curiosity has been quenched in toil and care and poor shallow comfort. After sleeping a few hours, I stole quietly out of the camp, and climbed the mountain that stands between the two glaciers. The ground was frozen, making the climbing difficult in the steepest places, but the views over the icy bay, sparkling beneath the stars, were enchanting. It seemed then a sad thing that any part of so precious a night had been lost in sleep. The starlight was so full that I distinctly saw not only the burg-filled bay, but most of the lower portions of the glaciers, lying pale and spirit-like amid the mountains. The nearest glacier in particular was so distinct that it seemed to be glowing with light that came from within itself. Not even in dark nights have I ever found any difficulty in seeing large glaciers, but on this mountain top, amid so much ice, in the heart of so clear and frosty a night, everything was more or less luminous, and I seemed to be poised in a vast hollow between two skies of almost equal brightness. This exhilarating scramble made me glad and strong, and I rejoiced that my studies called me before the glorious night, succeeding so glorious a morning had been spent. I got back to camp in time for an early breakfast, and by daylight, we had everything packed and were again underway. The fjord was frozen nearly to its mouth, and though the ice was so thin, it gave us but little trouble in breaking way for the canoe, yet it showed us that the season for exploration in these waters was well nigh over. We were in danger of being imprisoned in a jam of icebergs, for the water-spaces between them freeze rapidly, binding the flows into one mass. Across such flows, it would be almost impossible to drag a canoe, however industriously we might ply the axe, as our Huna guide took great pains to warn us. I would have kept straight down on the bay from here, but the guide had to be taken home, and the provisions we left at the bar-cut had to be got on board. We therefore crossed over to our Sunday storm camp, cautiously boring away through the bergs. We found the shore lavishly adorned with a fresh arrival of assorted bergs that had been left stranded at high tide. They were arranged in a curving row, looking intensely clear and pure on the gray sand, and, with the sunbeams pouring through them, suggested the jewel-paved streets of the new Jerusalem. On our way down the coast, after examining the front of the beautiful Geike Glacier, we obtained our first broad view of the Great Glacier afterwards named the Muir, the last of all the grand company to be seen. The stormy weather, having hidden it when we first entered the bay. It was now perfectly clear, and the spacious, prairie-like glacier, with its many tributaries extending far back into the snowy recesses of its fountains, made a magnificent display of its wealth, and I was strongly tempted to go and explore it at all hazards. But winter had come, and the freezing of its fjords was an insurmountable obstacle. I had therefore, to be content for the present, with sketching and studying its main features at a distance. When we camped at the Huna Hunting Camp, men, women, and children came swarming out to welcome us. In the neighborhood of this camp, I carefully noted the lines of demarcation between the forested and deforested regions. Several mountains here are only in part deforested, and the lines separating the bear and the forested portions are well defined. The soil, as well as the trees, had slid off the steep slopes, leaving the edge of the woods raw-looking and rugged. At the mouth of the bay, a series of moraine islands show that the trunk glacier that occupied the bay halted here for some time, and deposited this island material as a terminal moraine. That moraine of the bay was not filled in shows that, after lingering here, it receded comparatively fast, all the level portions of trunks of glaciers occupying ocean fjords. Instead of melting back gradually in times of general shrinking and recession, as inland glaciers with sloping channels do, melt almost uniformly over all the surface until they become thin enough to float. Then, of course, with each rise and fall of the tide, the sea water, with the temperature usually considerably above the freezing point, rushes in and out beneath them, causing rapid waste of the nether surface, while the upper is being wasted by the weather. And, at length, the fjord portions of these great glaciers become comparatively thin and weak and are broken up and vanish almost simultaneously. Glacier Bay is undoubtedly young as yet. Vancouver's chart, made only a century ago, shows no trace of it, though found admirably faithful in general. It seems probable, therefore, that, even then, the entire bay was occupied by a glacier of which all these described above, great though they are, were only tributaries.  The main trunk glacier there, having receded from 18 to 25 miles from the line marked on his chart, Charlie, who was here when a boy, said that the place had so changed that he hardly recognized it. So many new islands had been born in the meantime, and so much ice had vanished. As we have seen, this icy bay is being still farther extended by the recession of the glaciers, that this whole system of fjords and channels was added to the domain of the sea by glacial action, is to my mind certain. We reached the island from which we had obtained our store of fuel, about half past six, and camped here for the night, having spent only five days in Citadaca, sailing round it, visiting and sketching all the six glaciers, accepting the largest, though I landed only on three of them. The Geiki, Hugh Miller, and Grand Pacific, the freezing of the fjords in front of the others, rendering them inaccessible at this late season. Travels in Alaska by John Muir Chapter 11. The Country of the Chilcats On October 30 we visited a camp of Hoonas at the mouth of a salmon chuck. We had seen some of them before, and they received us kindly. Here we learned that peace reigned in Chilcat. The reports that we had previously heard were, as usual in such cases, wildly exaggerated. The little camp hut of these Indians was crowded with the food supplies they had gathered, chiefly salmon, dried and tied in bunches of convenient size for handling and transporting to their villages, bags of salmon roe, boxes of fish oil, a lot of mountain goat mutton, and a few porcupines. They presented us with some dried salmon and potatoes, for which we gave them tobacco and rice. About three p.m. we reached their village, and in the best house, that of a chief, we found the family busily engaged in making whiskey. The still and mash were speedily removed and hidden away with apparent shame as soon as we came in sight. When we entered and passed the regular greetings, the usual apologies as to being unable to furnish Boston food for us, and inquiries whether we could eat Indian food were gravely made. Towards six or seven o'clock Mr. Young explained the object of his visit and held a short service. The chief replied with grave deliberation, saying that he would be heartily glad to have a teacher sent to his poor ignorant people, upon whom he now hoped the light of a better day was beginning to break. Hereafter he would gladly do whatever the white teachers told him to do, and would have no will of his own. This, under the whiskey circumstances, seemed too good to be quite true. He thanked us over and over again for coming so far to see him, and complained that Port Simpson Indians sent out on a missionary tour by Mr. Crosby, after making a good luck board for him and nailing it over his door, now wanted to take it away. Mr. Young promised to make him a new one, should this threat be executed, and remarked that since he had offered to do his bidding, he hoped he would make no more whiskey. To this the chief replied with fresh complaints concerning the threatened loss of his precious board, saying that he thought the Port Simpson Indians were very mean in seeking to take it away, but that now he would tell them to take it as soon as they liked, for he was going to get a better one at Brangel. But no effort of the missionary could bring him to notice or discuss the whiskey business. The luck board nailed over the door was about two feet long, and had the following inscription. The Lord will bless those who do his will, when you rise in the morning, and when you retire at night, give him thanks.  I often wondered, he said, where the dead went to. Now I'm glad to know. And at last acknowledged the whiskey, saying he was sorry to have been caught making the bad stuff. The behaviour of all, even the little ones circled around the fire, was very good. There was no laughter when the strange singing commenced. They only gazed like curious, intelligent animals. A little daughter of the chief, with a glow of the firelight on her eyes, made an interesting picture. Head held a slant. Another in the group, with upturned eyes, seeming to half understand the strange words about God, might have passed for one of Raphael's angels. The chief's house was about forty feet square, of the ordinary fort kind, but better built and cleaner than usual. The side-room doors were neatly panelled, though all the lumber had been nibbled into shape with a small, narrow Indian adze. We had our tent pitched on a grassy spot near the beach, being afraid of wee beasties, which greatly offended Kada-chan and old Toyot. Who said, if this is the way you are to do up at Chilkat, we will be ashamed of you. We promise them to eat Indian food and in every way behave like good Chilkats. We set out direct for Chilkat in the morning, against a brisk headwind. By keeping close in shore and working hard, we made about ten miles by two or three o'clock. When, the tide having turned against us, we could make scarce any headway, and therefore landed in a sheltered cove, a few miles up the west side, of Lynn Canal. Here I discovered a fine growth of yellow cedar, but none of the trees were very large, the tallest only seventy-five to one hundred feet high. The flat, drooping, plume-like branchlets hang edgewise, giving the trees a thin, open, airy look. Nearly every tree that I saw in a long walk was more or less marked by the knives and axes of the Indians, who used the bark for matting, for covering house roofs, and making temporary, portable huts. For this last purpose, sections five or six feet long and two or three wide are pressed flat and secured from warping or splitting by binding them with thin strips of wood at the end. These they carry about with them in their canoes, and in a few minutes they can be put together against slim poles and made into a rain-proof hut. Every paddle that I have seen along the coast is made of the light, tough, handsome yellow wood of this tree. It is a tree of moderately rapid growth and usually chooses ground that is rather boggy or mossy. Whether it's network of roots makes the bog or not, I am unable as yet to say. Three glaciers on the opposite side of the canal were in sight, descending nearly to sea level, and many smaller ones that melt a little below Timberline. While I was sketching these, a canoe hove in sight, coming on at a flying rate of speed before the wind. The owners, eager for news, paid us a visit. They proved to be Hunus, a man, his wife, and four children on their way home from Chilcat. The man was sitting in the stern, steering and holding a sleeping child in his arms, another lay asleep at his feet. He told us that Sitka Jack had gone up to the main Chilcat village the day before he left, intending to hold a grand feast and potlatch, and that whiskey up there was flowing like water. The news was rather depressing to Mr. Young and myself, for we feared the effect of the poison on Toyat's old enemies. At 8.30 p.m. we set out again on the turn of the tide, though the crew did not relish this night work. Naturally enough they liked to stay in camp when wind and tide were against us, but didn't care to make up lost time after dark. However, wooingly wind and tide might flow and blow. Karachan, John, and Charlie rode, and Toyat steered and paddled, assisted now and then by me. The wind moderated and almost died away, so that we made about fifteen miles in six hours, when the tide turned and snow began to fall. We ran into a bay nearly opposite Burners Bay, where three or four families of Chilcats were camped, who shouted when they heard us landing and demanded our names. Our men ran to the huts for news before making camp. The Indians proved to be hunters, who said there were plenty of wild sheep on the mountains back a few miles from the head of the bay. This interview was held at three o'clock in the morning, a rather early hour, but Indians never resent any such disturbance provided there is anything worthwhile to be said or done. By four o'clock we had our tent set, a fire made, and some coffee, while the snow was falling fast. Toyat was out of humor with this night business. He wanted to land an hour or two before we did, and then when the snow began to fall and we all wanted to find a camping ground as soon as possible, he steered out into the middle of the canal, saying grimly that the tide was good. He turned, however, at our orders, but read us a lecture at the first opportunity, telling us to start early if we were in a hurry, but not to travel in the night like thieves. After a few hours sleep we set off again, with the wind still against us and the sea rough. We were all tired after making only about twelve miles, and camped in a rocky nook where we found a family of Hoonas in their bark hut beside their canoe. They presented us with potatoes and salmon, and a big bucketful of berries, salmon roe, and grease of some sort, probably fish oil, which the crew consumed with wonderful relish. A fine breeze was blowing next morning from the south, which would take us to Chilkat in a few hours. But, unluckily, the day was Sunday, and the good wind was refused. Sunday, it seemed to me, could be kept as well by sitting in the canoe and letting the Lord's wind waft us quietly on our way. The day was rainy, and the clouds hung low. The trees here are remarkably well developed, tall and straight. I observed three or four hemlocks which had been struck by lightning, the first I noticed in Alaska. Some of the species, on windy, outjutting rocks, became very picturesque, almost as much as old oaks. The foliage becoming dense, and the branchlets tufted in heavy, plume-shaped horizontal masses. Monday was a fine clear day, but the wind was dead ahead, making hard, dull work with paddles and oars. We passed a long stretch of beautiful marble cliffs and livened with small, merry waterfalls, and toward noon came in sight of the front of the famous Chilkat, or Davidson, Glacier, a broad white flood reaching out two or three miles into the canal with wonderful effect. I wanted a camp beside it, but the headwind tired us out before we got within six or eight miles of it. We camped on the west side of a small rocky island in a narrow cove. When I was looking among the rocks and bushes for a smooth spot for a bed, I found a human skeleton. My Indians seemed not in the least shocked or surprised, explaining that it was only the remains of a Chilkat slave. Indians never bury or burn the bodies of slaves, but just cast them away anywhere. Kind nature was covering the poor bones with moss and leaves, and I helped in the pitiful work. The wind was fair and joyful in the morning, and away we glided to the famous glacier. In an hour or so, we were directly in front of it and beheld it in all its crystal glory descending from its white mountain fountains, and spreading out in an immense fan three or four miles wide against its tree-fringed terminal moraine. But, large as it is, it long ago ceased to discharge bergs. The Chilkats are the most influential of all the flinket tribes. Whenever on our journey I spoke of the interesting characteristics of other tribes we had visited, my crew would invariably say, Oh yes, these are pretty good Indians, but wait till you have seen the Chilkats. We were now only five or six miles distant from their lower village, and my crew requested time to prepare themselves to meet their great rivals. Going ashore on the moraine with their boxes that had not been opened since we left Fort Rangel, they sat on boulders and cut each other's hair, carefully washed and perfumed themselves, and made a complete change in their clothing, even to white shirts, new boots, new hats, and bright neckties. Meanwhile, I scrambled across the broad brushy forested moraine, and on my return scarcely recognized my crew in their dress suits. Mr. Young also made some changes in his clothing, while I, having nothing dressy in my bag, adorned my cap with an eagle's feather I had found on the moraine, and thus arrayed we set forth to meet the noble flinkets. We were discovered while we were several miles from the village, and as we entered the mouth of the river we were hailed by a messenger from the chief, sent to find out who we were and the objects of our extraordinary visit. For you he shouted in a heavy, far-reaching voice, What are your names? What do you want? What have you come for? On receiving replies he shouted the information to another messenger, who was posted on the river bank at a distance of a quarter of a mile or so, and he to another and another in succession, and by this living telephone the news was delivered to the chief as he sat by his fireside. A salute was then fired to welcome us, and a swarm of musket-balls flying scarce high enough for comfort pinged over our heads. As soon as we reached the landing at the village, a dignified young man stepped forward, and thus addressed us. My chief sent me to meet you, and to ask if you would do him the honour to lodge in his house during your stay in our village. We replied, of course, that we would consider it a great honour to be entertained by so distinguished a chief. The messenger then ordered a number of slaves, who stood behind him, to draw our canoe out of the water, carry our provisions and bedding into the chief's house, and then carry the canoe back from the river where it would be beyond the reach of floating ice. While we waited a lot of boys and girls were playing on a meadow near the landing, running races, shooting arrows, and wading in the icy river without showing any knowledge of our presence beyond quick-stolen glances. After all was made secure, he conducted us to the house where we found seats of honour prepared for us. The old chief sat barefooted by the fireside, clad in a calico shirt and blanket, looking down, and though we shook hands as we passed him, he did not look up. After we receded, he still gazed into the fire without taking the slightest notice of us—about ten or fifteen minutes. The various members of the chief's family also—men, women and children—went about their usual employment and play as if entirely unconscious that strangers were in the house. It being considered impolite to look at visitors or speak to them before time had been allowed to collect their thoughts and prepare any message they might have to deliver. At length, after the politeness period had passed, the chief slowly raised his head and glanced at his visitors, looked down again, and at last said, through our interpreter, I am troubled. It is customary when strangers visit us to offer them food in case they might be hungry, and I was about to do so when I remembered that the food of you honourable white chiefs is so much better than mine that I am ashamed to offer it. We, of course, replied that we would consider it a great honour to enjoy the hospitality of so distinguished a chief as he was. Hearing this, he looked up, saying, I feel relieved, or, in John the interpreter's words, he feels good now. He says he feels good. He then ordered one of his family to see that the visitors were fed. The young man, who was to act as steward, took up his position in a corner of the house, commanding a view of all that was going on, and ordered the slaves to make haste to prepare a good meal, one to bring a lot of the best potatoes from the cellar and wash them well, another to go out and pick a basketful of fresh berries, another to broil a salmon, while others made a suitable fire pouring oil on the wet wood to make it blaze. Speedily the feast was prepared and passed around. The first course was potatoes, the second fish oil and salmon, next berries and rose hips, then the steward shouted the important news in a loud voice, like a herald addressing an army. That's all, and left his post. Then followed all sorts of questions from the old chief. He wanted to know what Professor Davidson had been trying to do a year or two ago on a mountaintop back of the village, with many strange things looking at the sun when it grew dark in the daytime, and we had to try to explain eclipses. He asked us if we could tell him what made the water rise and fall twice a day, and we tried to explain that the sun and moon attracted the sea by showing how a magnet attracted iron. Mr. Young, as usual, explained the object of his visit, and requested that the people might be called together in the evening to hear his message. Accordingly all were told to wash, put on their best clothing, and come at a certain hour. There was an audience of about two hundred and fifty, to whom Mr. Young preached. Toyat led in prayer, while Karachan and John joined in the singing of several hymns. At the conclusion of the religious exercises the chief made a short address of thanks, and finished with a request for the message of the other chief. I again tried in vain to avoid a speech by telling the interpreter to explain that I was only travelling to see the country, the glaciers, and mountains and forests, etc. But these subjects, strange to say, seemed to be about as interesting as the gospel, and I had to deliver a sort of lecture on the fine, foodful country God had given them and the brotherhood of man. Along the same general lines I had followed at other villages. Some five similar meetings were held here, two of them in the daytime, and we began to feel quite at home in the big blockhouse with our hospitable and warlike friends. At the last meeting an old white-haired shaman of grave and venerable aspect, with a high wrinkled forehead, big, strong, Roman nose, and light-coloured skin, slowly and with great dignity arose and spoke for the first time. I am an old man, he said, but I am glad to listen to those strange things you tell, and they may well be true for what is more wonderful than the flight of birds in the air. I remember the first white man I ever saw. Since that long, long ago time I have seen many, but never until now have I ever truly known and felt a white man's heart. All the white men I have here to for met wanted to get something from us. They wanted furs, and they wished to pay for them as small a price as possible. They all seemed to be seeking their own good, not our good. I might say that through all my long life I have never until now heard a white man speak. It has always seemed to me while trying to speak to traitors and those seeking gold mines that it was like speaking to a person across a broad stream that was running fast over stones and making so loud a noise that scarce a single word could be heard. But now, for the first time, the Indian and the white man are on the same side of the river, eye to eye, heart to heart. I have always loved my people. I have taught them and ministered to them as well as I could. Hereafter I will keep silent and listen to the good words of the missionaries, who know God and the places we go to when we die so much better than I do. At the close of the exercises after the last sermon had been preached and the last speech of the Indian chief and headman had been made, a number of the sub-chiefs were talking informally together. Mr. Young anxious to know what impression he had made on the tribe with reference to mission work requested John to listen and tell him what was being said. They are talking about Mr. Muir's speech, he reported. They say he knows how to talk and beats the preacher far. Toyat also, with a teasing smile, said, Mr. Young, Mika Tilikum hi utola wawa, your friend leads you far in speaking. Later, when the sending of a missionary and teacher was being considered, the chief said they wanted me and as an inducement promised that if I would come to them they would always do as I directed, follow my counsels, give me as many wives as I liked, build a church and school, and pick all of the stones out of the paths and make them smooth for my feet. They were about to set out on an expedition to the Hootsanoo's to collect blankets as indemnity or blood money for the death of a chill-cat woman from drinking whiskey furnished by one of the Hootsanoo tribe. In case of their refusal to pay, there would be fighting and one of the chiefs begged that we would pray them good luck so that no one would be killed. This he asked as a favour after begging that we would grant permission to go on this expedition, promising that they would avoid bloodshed if possible. He spoke in a very natural and easy tone and manner, always serene and so much of a polished diplomat that all polish was hidden. The younger chief stood while speaking, the elder sat on the floor. None of the congregation had a word to say, though they gave approving nods and shrugs. The house was packed at every meeting, two a day. Some climbed on the roof to listen around the smoke-opening. I tried in vain to avoid speech-making, but, as usual, I had to say something at every meeting. I made five speeches here, all of which seemed to be gladly heard, particularly what I said on the different kinds of white men and their motives, and their own kindness and good manners in making strangers feel at home in their houses. The chief had a slave, a young and good-looking girl who waited on him, cooked his food, lighted his pipe for him, etc. Her servitude seemed by no means galling. In the morning, just before we left on the return trip, interpreter John overheard him telling her that after the teacher came from Rangel he was going to dress her well and send her to school and use her in every way as if she were his own daughter. Slaves are still owned by the richest of the Thalinkits. Formerly, many of them were sacrificed on great occasions, such as the opening of a new house or the erection of a totem pole. Karachan ordered John to take a pair of white blankets out of his trunk and wrap them about the chief's shoulders as he sat by the fire. This gift was presented without ceremony or saying a single word. The chief scarcely noticed the blankets, only taking a corner in his hand as if testing the quality of the wool. Toyat had been an inveterate enemy and fighter of the Chilkats, but now, having joined the church, he wished to forget the past and bury all the hard feuds and be universally friendly and peaceful. It was evident, however, that he mistrusted the proud and warlike Chilkats and doubted the acceptance of his friendly advances, and as we approached their village became more and more thoughtful. My wife said that my old enemies would be sure to kill me. Well, never mind, I'm an old man, and may as well die as not. He was troubled with palpitation, and oftentimes, while he suffered, he put his hand over his heart and said, I hope the Chilkats will shoot me here. Before venturing up the river to the principal village, located some ten miles up the river, we sent Sitka Charlie and one of the young Chilkats as messengers to announce our arrival and inquire whether we would be welcome to visit them, informing the chief that both Karachan and Toyat were Mr. Young's friends and mine, that we were all one meat, and any harm done them would also be done to us. While our messengers were away, I climbed a pure white dome-crown mountain about fifty-five hundred feet high, and gained noble telling views to the northward of the main Chilkat glaciers and the multitude of mighty peaks from which they draw their sources. At a height of three thousand feet I found a mountain hemlock considerably dwarfed, in company with Sitka Spruce, and the common hemlock, the tallest about twenty feet high, sixteen inches in diameter. A few stragglers grew considerably higher, say, at about four thousand feet, birch and two-leaf pine were common. The messengers returned next day, bringing backward so that we would all be heartily welcomed accepting Toyat, that the guns were loaded and ready to be fired to welcome us, but that Toyat, having insulted a Chilkat chief not long ago in Rangel, must not come. They also informed us in their message that they were very busy merry-making with other visitors, Sitka Jack and his friends, but that if we could get up to the village through the running ice on the river, they would all be glad to see us. They had been drinking, and Karachan's father, the sensible chiefs, said plainly that he had just waked up out of ten days sleep. We were anxious to make this visit, but, taking the difficulties and untoward circumstances into account, the danger of being frozen in at so late a time, while Karachan would not be able to walk back on account of a shot in his foot, the danger also from whisky, the awakening of old feuds on account of Toyat's presence, etc., we reluctantly concluded to start back on the home journey at once. This was on Friday, and a fair wind was blowing, but our crew, who loved dearly to rest and eat in these big hospitable houses, all said that Monday would be highest cloche for the starting day. I insisted, however, on starting Saturday morning, and succeeded in getting away from our friends at ten o'clock. Just as we were leaving, the chief who had entertained us so handsomely requested a written document to show that he had not killed us. So, in case we were lost on the way home, he could not be held accountable in any way for our death.