“Sarah"
(An episode of the early days)
By
A. M. C.—Kodiak, Alaska
On a cold December morning
in the fall of 1896, I was in
George Westbrook’s cabin in
Dawson City, which consisted
of 3 log cabins only. I was get
ting ready to go out on the
creek when an old-timer came
in and casually remarked that
the “Moosehide” Indians were
moving up the Klondike thst
morning.
“They,” he said, ’ are in a bad
way. Quite a number of them
had smallpox this summer, so
they did not put up much dried
fish; and now that the rabbits
have died off they are certainly
up against it But”, he conclud
ed, “what is the use of worry
ing? It’s their own fault, for
they will not provide anyway.”
If a little personal history is
pardonable, I may digress here
to say that a party of six of us,
consisting of J. J. McKay, Prof.
Richardson, Curly Monroe,
Duncan Gillis, Jack Carr, who
died here a few years ago, and
whose wife. Elizabeth, also pass
ed awav here recently, and my
self had arrived in Dawson the
night before from down river.
All of us were chechakos having
come in over the Chilkoot pass
the previous spring (but not to
gether) and now, with 12 good
dogs, a large basket sled, and ^
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with our load of grub, dog feed,
and eamp equipment cut down
to the irreducible minimum, we
were making our first trip to the
“Outside” over the ice from Cir
cle City. This was something
that was considered quite a feat
in those days.
At Forty Mile we found the
little settlement fairly ablaze
with excitement over the phe
nomenal richness of the new
camp. Up to that time good pay
had been found on “Bonanza”
from 60 below to 40 above. On
the discovery claim of the Creek
tbat bears his name Andy Hunk
er had been getting as much as
$200 to the pan. Bear Creek had
pay at the mouth. But the rich
est pay of all bad just been
stiuck bv Clarence Berry on
Eldorado; the last creek to have
been staked, and that on ac
count of its width—had been
contemptuously nicknamed a
“moose pasture” by the old
timers.
Jim McKay and Curly Mon
roe decided to stay in Dawson
but the rest of us, after running
over the creeks, staking our
claims, returned to Forty Mile
for more grub and dog feed and
resumed our journey.
It was slow, gruelling work.
The days were short; the weath
er bad; we had to snowshoe our
own trail as we went along; lift
the sled over ice ridges, where
the river had jammed in freez
ing; make camp every night, al
ways in the dark; but by plug
ging along steadily, not daring
to lose a minute for our very
lives depended upon our little
grub pile, we managed to reach
the summit of Cbilkoot Pass at
about dusk on the afternoon of,
Jan. 26.
A storm was plainly impend
ing so as fast as we could we
took the harness off the dogs
and turned them loose; rough
locked the sled and sent it on its
way. Then with one of us going
ahead with the axe and cutting
steps in the snow we started
down and had reached half way
down the last steep pitch when
a wind of such fury hit us that
it almost blew us back to the
top of the summit again. There
was no need of steps after that.
We slid down to the bottom, a
place known as “The Scales”.
There the snow had been cut up
into hummocks and resembled a
field strewn with Huge boulders.
Leaving everything behind we
tumbled and slid down in the
dark between those hummocks
and managed to reacn the tim
ber at Sheep Camp, 3 miles be
low the summit, where Archie
Burns h?d built a cabin that
summer. Tired and worn as we
were after our long trip, that
cabin seemed like a veritable
haven of refuge to us. Unfortun
ately there was no grub of any
kind in it except some brown
beans. For the next three days
we had beans boiled in water
straight; without salt or anv
other flavoring they certainly
weren’t very palatable. (I have
never been able to look at brown
beans since.)
On the afternoon of the third
day the wind abated just enough
to enable us to go back to the
“Scales” again. Luckily for us
the snow was hard to drift and
the sled was not covered. (Ric
hardson had $5000 in gold dust
in his bedding.) The dogs had
gotien in the shelter of snow
hummocks and were all safe. It
was touching to see how glad
these poor brutes were to see us
again.
In about an hour after the
Indians had gone by I hit the
trail It was a bitter cold morn
ing; with the hood of my parka
pulled over my head, and bend
ing down low to avoid a cutting
breeze that was cutting down
the Klondike, I hurried along as
fast as I could and had almost
reached the mouth of Bonanza
when sounds of wailing first fell
upon my ears. Soon I came
upon a scene that still stands
out vividly in my memory as the
most pitiful one I have ever
seen.
A very old, small woman who
had been pulling a hand sled, on
which was lashed what seemed
to be bedding, had fallen behind
the rest of the tribe, and now no
longer able to walk, was still
bravely trying to keep going by
crawling on her hands and knees
a few feet at a time By the look
of horror and despair in her face
I saw that she realized that her
dreaded moment, when accord
to the customs of her people she
would be left behind somewhere
, to perish alone, had come. But
did she sing her death-song or
did she show any stoical resig
nation? Not at all.
Tears were streaming from her
eyes and she was sobbing
and moaning. Although no
one was in sight she was call
ing and beseeching in the most
pitiable fashion. Her cheeks were
beginning to freeze and in her
delirious condition she wouldn’t
have lasted much longer.
I put her on the sled and haul
ed her to the timber where the
trails forked. Some one had been
camped there and had left
spruce boughs over the beaten
snow and wood. I quickly start
ed a fire, opened my pack and in
no time I had some hot tea and
a good warm lunch ready for
her. About a mile farther up the
valley I could see smoke curling
up from a patch of willows from
wheie I surmised the rest of the
tribe had made camp.
After she was thoroughly
warmed and refreshed I put her
on the sled again and soon land
ed her safely amongst her
people.
On my way back from upper
Hunker three days later I called
in at the camp. They were still
in the same place—and looking
through the tents I found the
old woman. Her face was a mass
of sores from the frost bite but
she was squatted down on some
soft caribou robes smoking her
pipe. The tent was warm and she
seemed to be comfortable and
contented. Indian fashion, she
never so much as glanced at me.
“What is her name?” I asked
a middle-aged woman who was
with her.
“My mother Sarah”, she re
plied.
As I wa3 leaving the camp I
was glad to notice a few moose
shanks stuck up in the willows,
high up, out of reach of the
dogs.
After I had returned to Daw
son the following summer I had
occasion cogo down to Moose
hide village one day, and remem
bering old Sarah while there I
looked through all the cabins
and tents but failed to find a
trace of her.
Spying Chief Issac I went to
him.
“Issac,” I said, “where is old
Sarah? I want to see her.”
Isaac, a very intelligent man,
scrutinized my face a moment
and then slowly replied:
“Sarah old, old woman. She
dead last winter ”
I have often wondered since
if she weren’t left behind some
place, to miserably perish alone
after all.
NOTICE
Thcie will be a special meet
ing of the Central Labor Council
next Wednesday, March 22, at
8 pm.
Louise Marie Chaffie. who
arrived recently in this city, is
now employed at the H. Pinch
Jewelry store.
At The Cteche
Greek Russian Orthodox
Rev. Gregory Glebog
A cordial invitation is eiL
ed to all membe> - of the<^
to attend the services
CATHOLIC 'tKh.tcfl
Chaplain John Con*,
Ma»s will be said at theQi
eum theatre Sunday moron,
10 o’clock.
PRAISE CHAPEL
Rev. John Marshall
Sunday School I
Morning Service I
Sunday Afternoon Service
Classes for young peopk
Mon. & Fri evenings at f
COMMUNITY BAPTI8!
CHURCH
Kodiak, Alaska
Rev. Gregory S. Morony, ft
Services for
Sunday - March 19
10:15 Sunday School. Gass#
all ages.
11:15 Morning Worship
Sermon:
“Jesus’ Religious Coai
5:30 Fellowship Supper
Servicemen & civilians im
5:30 Christian Fellowship Ley
Intermediate, High S«
and Young People’sp
7: 30 Evening Gospel Hour
Drama:
Larola; A story of fari
Tuesday:
7:15 Bov Scouts
Wednesday,
7:30 Vesper Hour. Pn
Fellowship. Bible Stui
Thursday,
4 :00 Girls Choir
Children’s Choir
7.00 Church Choir
PUBLIC READING Jl
RECREATION ROOl
Open: Daily 1 to 9 ptn
Popular magazines,gi
etc. In church socialn
Public invited to via
any time.
Free Public Circulating IA
Books may be securl
asking at the parsa
next to church.
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THIS WEEK’S SPECIAL
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