Part 31 (2/2)

The site of Valdez is as level as a parade ground to the bases of the near mountains, which rise in sheer, bold sweeps. A line of alders, willows, cotton woods, and balms follows the glacial stream that flows down to the sea on each side of the town.

The glacier behind the town--now called a ”dead” glacier--once discharged bergs directly into the sea. The soil upon which the town is built is all glacial deposit. Flowers spring up and bloom in a day.

Vegetables thrive and are crisp and delicious--particularly lettuce.

Society is gay in Valdez, as in most Alaskan towns. Fort Lisc.u.m is situated across the bay, so near that the distance between is travelled in fifteen minutes by launch. Dances, receptions, card-parties, and dinners, at Valdez and at the fort, occur several times each week, and the social line is drawn as rigidly here as in larger communities.

There is always a dance in Valdez on ”steamer night.” The officers and their wives come over from the fort; the officers of the s.h.i.+p are invited, as are any pa.s.sengers who may bear letters of introduction or who may be introduced by the captain of the s.h.i.+p. A large and brightly lighted ballroom, beautiful women, handsomely and fas.h.i.+onably gowned, good music, and a genuine spirit of hospitality make these functions brilliant.

The women of Alaska dress more expensively than in ”the states.” Paris gowns, the most costly furs, and dazzling jewels are everywhere seen in the larger towns.

All travellers in Alaska unite in enthusiastic praise of its unique and generous hospitality. From the time of Baranoff's lavish, and frequently embarra.s.sing, banquets to the refined entertainments of to-day, northern hospitality has been a proverb.

”Petnatchit copla” is still the open sesame.

CHAPTER XXV

The trip over ”the trail” from Valdez to the Tanana country is one of the most fascinating in Alaska.

At seven o'clock of a July morning five horses stood at our hotel door.

Two gentlemen of Valdez had volunteered to act as escort to the three ladies in our party for a trip over the trail.

I examined with suspicion the red-bay horse that had been a.s.signed to me.

”Is he gentle?” I asked of one of the gentlemen.

”Oh, I don't know. You can't take any one's word about a horse in Alaska. They call regular buckers 'gentle' up here. The only way to find out is to try them.”

This was encouraging.

”Do you mean to tell me,” said one of the other ladies, ”that you don't know whether these horses have ever been ridden by women?”

”No, I do not know.”

She sat down on the steps.

”Then there's no trail for me. I don't know how to ride nor to manage a horse.”

After many moments of persuasion, we got her upon a mild-eyed horse, saddled with a cross-saddle. The other lady and myself had chosen side-saddles, despite the a.s.surance of almost every man in Valdez that we could not get over the trail sitting a horse sidewise, without accident.

”Your skirt'll catch in the brush and pull you off,” said one, cheerfully.

”Your feet'll hit against the rocks in the canyon,” said another.

”You can't balance as even on a horse's back, sideways, and if you don't balance even along the precipice in the canyon, your horse'll go over,”

said a third.

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