Gulf and Glacier; or, The Percivals in Alaska

by Madeline Leslie

  CHAPTER VII.

  SOLOMON BARANOV.

  "All ashore!" sung out Tom as the _Queen_ touched the wharf at FortWrangell, at nine o'clock the next morning. "Come on, all of you. Wehave four hours here, the captain says."

  Mounting the rail for a jump, the boy brought upon himself a sharprebuke from the officer; but the ship was soon safely moored and thegangplank run down to the wharf.

  The excursionists straggled ashore in twos and threes, and began aneager inspection of their first Alaskan town.

  The Percivals and their friends stroll down the single street of thevillage, which borders the shore with a row of low wooden houses.

  Here are three or four squaws in gaudy blankets, crouching on a littlewooden platform in front of their hut. Their favorite position is thatof a seal, or a pussy cat--half-reclining, face downward. Spread outon the platform are baskets made of cedar-root, fiber and bark; carvedwooden knives and forks; spoons of horn; little stone images, silverbracelets, and other curiosities of home manufacture.

  Mr. Percival purchased one or two of these trinkets for friends athome, and continued his walk, followed by a pack of yelping dogs.

  A singular object now came in view--a pole about twenty feet talland two feet in diameter, carved in strange and fantastic shapes.There were the figures of a bear, a raven, a fish and a frog, with agrotesque human head at the top of all. This was one of the famous"totem poles," which indicate the tribe to which the owner belongs, andgenerally display an image of one or more ancestors. A thousand goodAmerican dollars could hardly purchase this ugly, worn, weather-beatenold pole from the natives who live in squalid poverty in the log hutbehind it.

  TOTEM POLES AT FORT WRANGELL.]

  Here was another totem pole belonging to the chief of the Bear tribe.It had simply the figure of a crouching bear on the top, with printsof his feet carved in the wood leading up to it. Another had a ravenin the same way. There was a huge wooden wolf set on the tomb of aprominent member of the "Wolves"--once a powerful Alaskan tribe.

  "Do you suppose they would let us go inside their house?" whisperedAdelaide to her brother, glancing timidly in at one of the open frontdoors.

  "I'll see," he replied, and soon returned, laughing. "They don't objectin the least," he said. "They seem used to visitors."

  Entering the door, the party found themselves in a large square room,which comprised the whole interior of the house. The floor was ofearth, beaten hard, but a wooden platform, raised about two feet, ranaround three sides. In the exact center was a smouldering fire of logs,the smoke finding its way out through a hole in the roof.

  "Where do you sleep?" asked Rossiter.

  Only one of the half-dozen natives who were seated around the firecould understand English.

  "Bed," she said, pointing to a heap of blankets lying on the raisedplatform in one corner of the room.

  On the dingy walls of the little hut there hung a colored print ofthe Saviour's face. All around were the strange heathen carvings andrude implements of the Alaskan native. The four posts which supportedthe roof were "totems," representing in hideous caricature the tribeto which the inhabitants of the hut belonged. The natives themselves,slow of movement and speech, their dull eyes hardly glancing at thestrangers, were grouped on the raised margin of the floor.

  I said the faces were dull. There was one exception. A young motherbent over a solemn brown baby who lay, round-eyed and contented, in herlap. The girl's eyes shone with mother-love; her dark hand was gentleas she smoothed Baby's tumbled little blanket, and looked up shyly andproudly at the new-comers.

  The child in its mother's bosom; the Christ face upon the wall: thesewere the two points of light in that shadowy home. Christ, who came asa little child to Bethlehem, had sent a baby to Fort Wrangell, and athought, vague and unformed though it was, of the Saviour whose facelooked down upon the little group, from its rude frame upon the wall.

  The girls waved their hands to the round little brown berry of a baby,and the mother laughed and looked pleased, just as a New Englandmother would. Mr. Selborne left in her hand a silver coin--"two bits,"everybody in Alaska called a quarter--and said good-by.

  "What tribe do they belong to?" asked Randolph, as they emerged fromthe gloomy hut.

  "Stickeen," promptly replied Tom. "Let's give 'em a sing." And singthey did, until the solemn faces of the natives gathering about them onthe beach, actually relaxed into the semblance of a smile.

  Reaching the steamer once more, they displayed their treasures beforeBess, who could not yet quite venture on a long walk.

  There were toy paddles, with ravens' and bears' heads painted in redand black; horn spoons, dark and light, with finely carved profileson the handle; great rough garnets, of which Tom had purchased half ahandful for a song, and many other oddities. Of course the kodak armyhad been busy, but the results could not yet be seen. Many a Stickeenportrait and ugly totem lay snugly hidden in those black leather boxes,to be "developed," printed and laughed over in gay city parlors thecoming winter.

  Just as the boat cast off her moorings, an Indian, fantasticallydressed, appeared on the wharf, and gave a dance for the benefit of thedeparting passengers, who threw down bits of silver as the _Queen_ oncemore started on her course.

  As the heart of the great ship began to throb and she swung slowly outtoward the sea, one tall, quiet-faced man stood upon the old wharfamong the Indians, silently watching the departure of all that meanthome and friends. He waved his hand and lifted his hat to some one ondeck, then turned gravely, and with firm step walked back toward thestraggling row of huts which sheltered the poor, degraded natives ofFort Wrangell.

  "Who is that?" queried some one carelessly, and the answer came: "Themissionary."

  It was Mr. Selborne who spoke last. He explained that he had justbeen talking with the man, who was doing noble work in this squalid,miserable community. His pay was a mere pittance, and the societysupporting him were in sore need of funds for the establishment of aschool or home for native children.

  Rossiter paused.

  "Let's give them a helping hand," said Mr. Percival, passing over abill. Another and another fell into the hat that was sent around, anda few days afterward that missionary's eyes filled with glad tears ashe opened a package containing one hundred and thirty dollars for theneeded Home, from the passengers of the _Queen_.

  Another wonderfully beautiful evening followed the Wrangell experience.At half-past nine fine print could be read by daylight, and at elevenit was by no means dark.

  The next day the steamer touched at Douglas Island, giving itspassengers time for a run up to the richest gold mine in the world. Inthe early afternoon the _Queen_ steamed across the strait to Juneau,only a few miles distant, and stopped there for the night.

  It was a larger town than any they had yet seen in Alaska, and curvedaround a fine bay at the base of high mountains, on whose high slopescould be seen patches of snow and "young glaciers," as Fred calledthem.

  Mr. Selborne and his sister at once hunted up the Mission House, andhad a long talk with Mrs. Willard, the brave and gentle lady who gaveup a happy and comfortable home life in the East to help the Alaskannatives.

  "One could listen to her stories all day and not tire of them,"said Rossiter to Mr. Percival afterward. "The sufferings and thesuperstitions of these poor creatures are almost incredible."

  Shortly after returning from the Mission, he mailed to Fort Wrangellthe valuable letter of which we have spoken.

  The young people scattered through the village as soon as the steamerwas moored. Mr. Percival rode off with two gentlemen who met him uponthe wharf, to look at the Silver Bow Basin gold mines, of which he waspart owner.

  Tom and Fred strolled along arm in arm, in front of the houses andstores that lined the beach, now and then stopping to speak to anative, or examine the trinkets and furs that were everywhere exposedfor sale.

  They were handling an unusually fine brown bear rug, when acurious-looking man, perhaps fifty years
of age, halted by their side.

  TOM AND FRED AT JUNEAU.]

  His hair and beard were long and rough, and his garments seemed to havebeen made for a wearer much shorter and stouter than himself. He wasover six feet in height, and had a kindly, almost child-like look inhis blue eyes, which, however, were keen as a hawk's, looking out fromunder a pair of shaggy eyebrows.

  "Pretty good pelt, that," he remarked, running his hand over the skin."Thinkin' o' buyin'?"

  There was no mistaking the New England "Down East" accent, whichreminded Tom of Ruel at "the Pines."

  "Well, hardly that," answered Fred, taking the man for the proprietorof the store. "We thought we might price some of these rugs, though.How much do you ask for this one?"

  "Bless ye!" exclaimed the other, with a good-natured laugh; "I don'tknow nothin' 'baout selling 'em. Ask the storekeeper in there."

  "Oh! I thought"--began Fred, blushing a little at his mistake.

  "I see," laughed their new friend; "ye took me for the owner. Wall, youwar'n't so fur aout o' the way, either. I was the owner o' that pelt,last fall."

  The boys waited for more; seeing which the hunter--for such he seemedto be--went on: "I shot that 'ar b'ar up 'n the Yukon valley, lastSeptember. He was jest lookin' fer a place to den up, I reckon, when herun foul o' my rifle," he added, with a silent chuckle.

  "What kind of a bear is it?" asked Tom. "A cinnamon?"

  "Reg'lar cinnamon. Braown b'ar, some folks call 'em. They're's thick'ssquirrels back in the maountings. But this was an extra fine one, an'no mistake."

  Just then the storekeeper came out and greeted the party. "How do youdo, gentlemen? Won't you walk in? Finest skins in Juneau--no harmlooking at 'em, whether you want to buy or not. Halloo, Solomon! roundagain? How soon do you start North?"

  "Wall, in 'baout a month, I reckon. The musquiters are too thick tomake it more'n half-comf'table in the woods jest naow."

  "That is Solomon Baranov, the best shot in these parts," explained thestorekeeper, leading the way into his shop. "He shoots and traps allthe time except in the hottest months of the year. He could tell yousome good bear stories, I reckon!"

  "'Baranov'? He's not a Russian, is he?"

  "Father was Russian, and mother a Yankee. She came from somewhere East,I'm told. Now, what can I show you in the way of furs or Indian curios,gentlemen? Look at that for a fox robe!"

  The boys purchased a good gray wolf skin, handsomely mounted, knowingthat Juneau was the best place in Alaska for buying fine furs. But theyhurried out again as soon as this piece of business was transacted,anxious to renew their acquaintance with Baranov.

  He was sitting on a raised platform at a little distance, smoking anold brierwood pipe, and talking seriously to a couple of black cubs,who gamboled clumsily about him, tugging at their chains and pushingtheir snouts into his capacious jacket pockets for eatables.

  "Seems to me," he was saying gravely as the boys came up, "I'd thinko' somethin' else besides eatin' all day. Haven't ye got any ambition?Don't it wear on ye bein' tied up, instead o' rootin' raound in thewoods I took ye from last March? Halloo, boys! Find a pelt ye liked?"

  Tom opened his package and displayed the wolf skin.

  "Very good, very good," said the old hunter, running his hand throughthe fur. "An auk brought that in last winter. He got clawed up puttywell, too, killin' the critter."

  "I wish you'd tell us something about the hunting around here," saidTom, as he and Fred flung themselves down beside the man.

  "Tell ye somethin'! I'd show ye somethin' ef we only hed time. Why,thar's b'ars within three gunshot o' this very spot, like's not, back apiece on the maounting. How long d'ye stay here?"

  "Only to-night."

  "Stoppin' on the _Queen_?"

  "Yes; with a big Excursion from Boston."

  "Wall, then, your Excursion won't get away from Juneau before day afterto-morrow evenin', at the arliest."

  "What do you mean? How's that?" cried both boys at once.

  "Somethin's given aout in the steamer's machinery. I heard Cap'nCarroll say an hour ago that he must stop here to fix it, and 'twouldtake two days at least."

  "Then we could go with you. Will you take us?"

  "Why, ef your folks is willin', and you ain't afraid of a long tramp,an' wet feet, and mebbe a b'ar or two--an' musquiters," he added in acomical tone, "we could fix it so's to git away arly to-morrow mornin',camp one night, and be back before noon Thursday, ef nothin' happened."

  "But we haven't any guns"--

  "Oh! two rifles is all we'd want in this craowd. Thar's my piece athome, and I'd borrow one somewhars in Juneau."

  "Well, I tell you what, Fred," shouted Tom, "if father's willing weshould go, we can have a big time, and perhaps kill a bear!"

  "That's so!" said Fred, catching fire from the other's enthusiasm."That'll be seeing a bit of Alaska that isn't down on the programme,eh?"

  "Is your father raound?" asked Solomon, with a meditative puff at hispipe.

  "He's gone off to look at some mines."

  "H'm--'Silver Bow,' I s'pose. When d'ye expect him back?"

  "Before supper, he said. Where can we find you, Mr.--Mr."--

  "You c'n call me Solomon or Baranov, jest's ye please," said thehunter. "There ain't no 'mister' to it. I'll meet you here, or what'sbetter, I'll be daown on the wharf at eight o'clock to-night. What'syour names?"

  "Tom Percival and Fred Seacomb. I'll bring my father with me." And withmutual good-bys they parted for the afternoon.

  Tom could think of nothing but the coming tramp, and dignified Freddisplayed a degree of excitement which was, to say the least, unusual.The girls looked anxious when they heard the plan, but admitted that ifthey were boys it would be great fun.

  "Of course," remarked Tom, "you'll be awfully lonesome without us, thatday and a half. But you must bear up under it."

  "We'll try," said Kittie demurely. "But if you go, we shall expect agood bear skin apiece, to pay for the lonesomeness."

  "Don't let 'em put their paws on your shoulders, Tom," counseledRandolph solemnly.

  "Nor try to pacify them with sugar," added Pet, to whom Randolph hadbasely confided the story of his cousin's adventure at Glacier Station.

  In the midst of the laughter, Mr. Percival arrived.

  "Father, we want to go off on a bear-hunt," began Tom, all in a breath."Of course you're willing, aren't you, sir? And Solomon says"--

  "Wait, wait," laughed Mr. Percival, taking a seat on a stool--for thisconversation took place on the deck of the _Queen_, just in front ofthe open stateroom doors--"who is it that wants to go on a bear-hunt?Bess, I suppose, and Miss Selborne?"

  They all shouted at this, Adelaide as merrily as the rest.

  "Oh! I don't want to hunt bears, Mr. Percival," she cried. "Nothingshort of elephants will do for me."

  Then they all began talking at once, and at last Mr. Percival obtainedsome clear idea of the plan. He looked grave.

  "I'll see Captain Carroll first," he said, "and then I'll talk withyour friend, Baranov." And that was all the satisfaction he would givethe eager young hunters.

  The captain, who seemed to know all the old miners, traders and hunterson the coast, must have given Mr. Percival a good report of Solomon,for the father's face cleared as he talked with the bluff commander ofthe _Queen_.

  Supper over, all the interested parties descended to the wharf, where,in due time, the old hunter made his appearance.

  Tom performed the necessary introductions, and for ten minutes therewas an earnest conversation between the two men, as to the proposedtrip. The boys watched every turn and gesture, as they talked. Randolphhad been asked to join the party, but he was greatly interested in thenew works at the mine, and preferred to spend the day in visiting theBasin and going through the great half-mile tunnel in which the goldwas to be drawn off by the "placer" process.

  "Tom," said Mr. Percival, wheeling around suddenly on his heel, "I havedecided to let you go. Baranov says he will take go
od care of you; andCaptain Carroll tells me he always keeps his word."

  Solomon inclined his head gravely, but smoked in silence.

  "You will start at three o'clock to-morrow morning," added Mr.Percival. "Solomon will bring all the necessary outfit for the trip,including an extra rifle."

  "Good-night," said Baranov, moving off in a leisurely manner, as if hehad engaged to step across the street, rather than take charge of twoinexperienced city boys on a twenty-mile tramp over the mountain.