Identifier: trailingcamping00powe (find matches)
Title: Trailing and camping in Alaska
Year: 1909 (1900s)
Authors: Powell, Addison M. (Addison Monroe), 1856-
Subjects:
Publisher: New York : A. Wessels
Contributing Library: The Library of Congress
Digitizing Sponsor: The Library of Congress

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Text Appearing Before Image:
The next night, about two o'clock in the morn-
ing, we heard the call of a night-bird, apparently
near by; this was answered over on another hill, and
that indicated the oft-heard signal of the Tananas.
I quietly slipped out in the dark and listened, and
again it was heard, farther away, and this time it
was answered from along the trail; so it was plainly
an Indian call, and not that of a night-bird of the
feathered kind.
Those Indians had done right in going around the
camp of the white man, for a tenderfoot might
have shot an Indian at that time of night, if he had
discovered him near his camp;—there is always an
uncanny feeling that passes through ones anatomy
when that call is heard.
The next day we passed Indian Albert on the
trail, and after satisfying his request for tobacco,
we continued on our way and presently heard the
same bird-call from a thicket, two hundred yards
to one side. Before I had recovered from the
amusement of a night-bird calling at mid-day, the
answer was heard from Albert, away down the trail.
The first was not intended for the white man's ears,
and in that case, no doubt, emanated from Albert's
bodyguard.
Text Appearing After Image:

An Indian Pack-Trai

Trailing and Camping in Alaska 301
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If, when camping among those forest denizens,
you happen to explain to a tenderfoot companion
that these calls, or plaintive tremolos, which sound
from the dark recesses of night, are aboriginal sig-
nals, then that tenderfoot needs a sedative for his
nerves. You will not be annoyed by his snoring dur-
ing the rest of that night. He may previously have
been the embodiment of inanition, but the spell will
be forever broken while on the trail, and henceforth,
when in the wilds at night, he will ever be on the
alert, and his stare into darkness will indicate nur-
tured animation, apparently conserved for that par-
ticular occasion.
A young Indian approached our camp, on Chicka-
men Creek, carrying a twenty-pound pack, and sup-
porting besides the ponderous cognomen of Bob.
With inimitable gestures he assured us that he knew
of a dry trail leading to Mentasta, which avoided
the bosky swamp country of the Slahna bottoms,
with their innumerable muskrat ponds, lakes and
slougs. In consideration of his services as guide,

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