Part 11 (1/2)

The boat remained at Good Hope all too short a time to suit them, because all our young travelers were anxious to go to the top of a certain hill, from which it was said they could have a view of the Midnight Sun, which had disappeared behind the ridge of the hills back of the fort itself. Indeed, one of the crew ascended this eminence, and claimed that he had made a photograph of the Midnight Sun. Certainly, all of the boys were able to testify that it was still light at four o'clock in the morning, for they had remained up that late, eagerly prowling around through the curious and interesting scenes of the far-northern trading-post.

So wearied were they by their long experience afoot on the previous day that on the morning of July 7th they slept a little later than usual, although their total hours of rest were no more than two or three. Uncle d.i.c.k was before them on the deck this time, and reproached them very much when they appeared.

”Well, young men,” said he, ”did you feel any heavy jar, or hear a dull, sickening thud, some time about half an hour or an hour ago?”

”You don't mean that we've pa.s.sed the Circle, do you, Uncle d.i.c.k?”

queried John.

”We certainly have. I don't know just where it was. It's seven-thirty o'clock now, and somewhere between here and Fort Good Hope we crossed the Arctic Circle!”

”I can't believe it!” said Rob. ”Why, look, the weather is perfectly fine, and there isn't any ice to be seen. On the other hand, there are plenty of mosquitoes. What's more, just back at Fort Good Hope we have seen that they can raise things in their gardens. I would never have believed these things about this northern country if I had not seen them myself.”

Through the soft, mild light of the sub-Arctic morning the great steamboat churned on her north-bound way. At ten o'clock they pa.s.sed an Indian village which they were told was called Chicago--no doubt named by some of the Klondikers who were practically cast away here twenty years earlier. John put it down on his map under that name, as indeed it is charted in all the authentic maps of that upper region.

They were told that a good number of Indians come here to make their winter hunt.

An uneventful day, during which the boat logged a great many miles in her steady progress, was pa.s.sed, until at ten o'clock they tied up at the next to the last of the Hudson's Bay posts on the Mackenzie River, known as Arctic Red River, located at sixty-seven degrees and thirty minutes north lat.i.tude.

”Oh, look, look, fellows!” exclaimed John, as they pulled into the landing here. ”Now we're beginning to get some real stuff! I feel as though we were pretty near to the end of the world. Look yonder!”

He pointed to where, along the beach at the foot of the bluff, there lay two encampments of natives.

”Look at the difference in the boats!” exclaimed John, running to the side of the boat. ”There are whale-boats with sails, something like those we saw out on the Alaska coast. What are they, Uncle d.i.c.k?”

”Those are Eskimos, my young friend,” said their leader, ”and what you see there are indeed whale-boats. The Huskies come up the river this far to trade with the other Indians, and with the white men at this post. This is about as far as they come. They get their boats in trade from the whale-s.h.i.+ps somewhere along the Arctic. As John says, this is really a curious and interesting scene that you see.

”Over yonder, I think, are the Loucheux. I don't think they are as strong and able a cla.s.s of savages as the Huskies. At least, that's what the traders tell me.”

”Well, they've got wall tents, anyway,” said Jesse, who was fixing his field-gla.s.ses on the encampments. ”Where did they get them? From the traders, I suppose. My, but they look ragged and poor! I shouldn't wonder if they were about starved.”

By this time the boat was coming to her landing, and the boys hurried ash.o.r.e to see what they could find in this curious and interesting encampment.

There were two trading-posts at Arctic Red River--the Hudson's Bay Company post, and that of an independent trading company, both on top of the high bluff and reached by a stairway which ran part way up the face.

Some of the tribesmen from the encampment now hurried down to meet the boat--tall and stalwart Eskimos in fur-trimmed costumes which the boys examined with the greatest of interest and excitement, feeling as they did that now indeed they were coming into the actual North of which they had read many years before.

”Uncle d.i.c.k is right,” said Rob. ”These Eskimos are bigger and stronger than any of the Indians we have seen. I don't think the women are so bad-looking, either, although the children look awfully dirty.”

”It's like Alaska, isn't it?” said John. ”Look at the parkies they wear, even here in the summer-time. That's just like the way Alaska Indians and white men dress in the winter-time.”

”Well,” said Jesse, ”maybe that's the only clothes they've got. I'll warrant you they have on their best, because this is the great annual holiday for them, when the Company boat comes in.”

Rob looked at his watch. ”Twelve o'clock!” said he. ”I can't tell whether the sun is up yet or not, because it is so cloudy. Anyhow, we can say that we are now under the Midnight Sun, can't we?--because here we are right among the Eskimos.”

Uncle d.i.c.k joined them after a while, laughing. ”Talk about traders!”

said he. ”No Jew and no Arab in the world would be safe here among these Huskies! They are the stiffest traders I ever saw in my life.

You can't get them to shade their prices the least bit on earth.

”These boats,” he continued, ”are crammed full of white-fox skins and all sorts of stuff--beaver, marten, and mink--and some mighty good fur at that. But those people haven't seen any white men's goods for at least a year, and yet they act as if they hadn't an intention in the world of parting with their furs. Look here,” he continued, holding out his hand.

The boys bent over curiously to see what he had.