Part 59 (1/2)

Men of the highest character and address have been placed at the head of the various stations,--men with the business ability to successfully conduct the company's important interests and the social qualifications that would enable them to meet and entertain distinguished travellers through the wilderness in a manner creditable to the company. Tourists, by the way, who go to Alaska without providing themselves with clothes suitable for formal social functions are frequently embarra.s.sed by the omission. Gentlemen may hasten to the company's store--which carries everything that men can use, from a toothpick to a steamboat--and array themselves in evening clothes, provided that they are not too fastidious concerning the fit and the style; but ladies might not be so fortunate.

Nothing is too good for the people of Alaska, and when they offer hospitality to the stranger within their gates, they prefer to have him pay them the compliment of dressing appropriately to the occasion. If voyagers to Alaska will consider this advice they may spare themselves and their hosts in the Arctic Circle some unhappy moments.

Yukon summers are glorious. There is not an hour of darkness. A gentleman who came down from ”the creeks” to call upon us did not reach our hotel until eleven o'clock. He remained until midnight, and the light in the parlor when he took his departure was as at eight o'clock of a June evening at home. The lights were not turned on while we were in Dawson; but it is another story in winter.

Clothes are not ”blued” in Dawson. The first morning after our arrival I was summoned to a window to inspect a clothes-line.

”Will you look at those clothes! Did you ever see such whiteness in clothes before?”

I never had, and I promptly asked Miss Kinney what her laundress did to the clothes to make them look so white.

”I'm the laundress,” said she, brusquely. ”I come out here from Chicago to work, and I work. I was half dead, clerking in a store, when the Klondike craze come along and swept me off my feet. I struck Dawson broke. I went to work, and I've been at work ever since. I have cooks, and chambermaids, and laundresses; but it often happens that I have to be all three, besides landlady, at once. That's the way of the Klondike.

Now, I must go and feed those malamute pups; that little yellow one is getting sa.s.sy.”

She had almost escaped when I caught her sleeve and detained her.

”But the clothes--I asked you what makes them so white--”

”Don't you suppose,” interrupted she, irascibly, ”that I have too much work to do to fool around answering the questions of a cheechaco? I'm not travelling down the Yukon for fun!”

This was distinctly discouraging; but I had set out to learn what had made those clothes so white. Besides, I was beginning to perceive dimly that she was not so hard as she spoke herself to be; so I advised her that I should not release her sleeve until she had answered my question.

She burst into a kind of lawless laughter and threw her hand out at me.

”Oh, you! Well, there, then! I never saw your beat! There ain't a thing in them there clothes but soap-suds, renched out, and suns.h.i.+ne. We don't even have to rub clothes up here the way you have to in other places; and we never put in a _pinch_ of blueing. Two-three hours of suns.h.i.+ne makes 'em like snow.”

”But how is it in winter?”

She laughed again.

”Oh, that's another matter. We bleach 'em out enough in summer so's it'll do for all winter. Let go my sleeve or you won't get any blueberries for lunch.”

This threat had the desired effect. Surely no woman ever worked harder than Miss Kinney worked. At four o'clock in the mornings we heard her ordering maids and malamute puppies about; and at midnight, or later, her springing step might be heard as she made the final rounds, to make sure that all was well with her family.

We were greatly amused and somewhat embarra.s.sed on the day of our arrival. We saw at a glance that the only vacant room was too small to receive our baggage.

”I'll fix that,” said she, snapping her fingers. ”I just gave a big room on the first floor to two young men. I'll make them exchange with you.”

It was in vain that we protested.

”Now, you let me be!” she exclaimed; ”I'll fix this. You're in the Klondike now, and you'll learn how white men can be. Young men don't take the best room and let women take the worst up here. If they come up here with that notion, they soon get it taken out of 'em--and I'm just the one to do it. Now, you let me be! They'll be tickled to death.”

Whatever their state of mind may have been, the exchange was made; but when we endeavored to thank her, she snapped us up with:--

”Anybody'd know you never lived in a white country, or you wouldn't make such a fuss over such a little thing. We're used to doing things for other people _up here_,” she added, scornfully.

Miss Kinney gave us many surprises during our stay, but at the last moment she gave us the greatest surprise of all. Just as our steamer was on the point of leaving, she came running down the gangway and straight to us. Her hands and arms were filled with large paper bags, which she began forcing upon us.

”There!” she said. ”I've come to say good-by and bring you some fruit.

I'd given you one of those malamute puppies if I could have spared him.