The Chickasha daily express. (Chickasha, Indian Territory [Okla.]) 1899-current, 1901-05-07
THE YUKON ROADHOUSES
STRUNG ALL ALONG BOTH SIDES
OF THE RIVER NOW.

a Dollar a Bed, q Dollar and q Half q
Meal-the Bed-The MeaI-Enterprise
Of the Hosts = How They Turn a
Trout to Their side.
''When the land was young says
Mr. Jack London. when he wants TO
tell a Yukon tale Of men who have
Travelled fifty miles day on snow
shoes for fifty days. eating one dog
salmon and handful Of -four aud are
shivering under their blankets in a
cotton tent. the thermometer seventy
degrees below zero. The temporal
qualification Is necessary TO be true to
life The Yukon country Is no longer
young. though the remainder Of Alas
ka Is generally younger than the Yu-
kon Valley has ever been since the
first steamboat aseended II in 1868,
says a Klondiker in the New York
Commercial Advertiser. Tt is quite
four years since Il was the custom in
winter for men along the Yukon to
sleep In cotton tents and eat dog sal
mOn In the winter Of 1899 1900 the
thermometer at Dawson didn't once go
below sixty degrees below zero.
The 'r0ad-hOuse" has civilized the
Yukon Valley. If you start in No
vember with the great exodus from
Dawson 10 salt water. up the frozen
boulevard Of river, you won't take a
cotton tent. and it's nuggets to mar
bles yOu won't even get a dish Of
beans You win spend every night in
a g00d-sized log cabin, with two or
three rooms and more OF less sawmill
made lumber with rustic Ornamental
tlOn. The fare viii be somewhat more
pretentlous than IN a New England
boarding house. A bunk viii cost 81,
a meal will cost $3.50. and you may
get among other things. canned oyster
soup caribou steak with cranberry
jelly. and. Of course, pie. The Yankee
makes the best pioneer, and he does
Il on pie: and the Yankee has won
Alaska.
Every ten miles or so IN travelling
up the river comes a road house On
foot or with a dog team. when you are
beginning to get a little hungry for din
ner or supper. cast your eyes ahead
along the hills Of smoky amethyst,
and there is a blue spire Of smoke ris-
ing. straight up-oh. how quiet and
slim.-into a sky Of lacquered brass.
All summer the cabins are empty.
Travellers sleep on some Of the stern
wheel river boats; from the rest. too
small 20 serve a meal on. they pile
ashore three times a day with their
stoves and grub boxes, and at night
with the cotton tent Likewise do the
scow-travelers. In September and Oc-
fOber the last steamboats, begin 10
make stops az the road-honses, and
unload crate after crate OF canned
hash and tomatoes. "fhis years eggs,
hams and -four. The proprietor, OF pro-
prietress. who has been running sum-
mer restaurant at one OF the big
camps, or on one Of the creeks. Is on
hand. and with him a gang Of the
unemployed" TO make the woodpile
and fix things up
But Quitting Of a road-house is an
expensive matter and a great financial
risk. One should have such things as
eggs and tomatoes. for II you haven't
got them. your reputation suffers. and
the dog teams and mushers walk
right on past you. Competition among
the houses Is very keen. After the ex-
penses of Quitting ana keeping a
gang Of men an winter carrying your
wood and water, you must have every
person Of the thousands going ont stop
with you. The season is very short,
November to April. and the New Eng
land farmers could get points on how
TO trap the city boarder from the host
OF a Yukon road-house.
The road-house Is there and ready
before the TRAN is broken, but whether
the TRAN follows the right or left bank,
or keeps IN mid-stream depends on
whether the river is open or closed,
whether the ice is rough or smooth,
and on the whim Of the first traveller,
whom the rest follow like sheep. Sup
pose the trail passes a r0ad-house on
the other side. II does this to one out
OF every four The proprietor sees his
egg and tomato money going, so he
goes out into the woods with his little
hatchet. He chops down many hun
dred little spruces. and going a mile
or so back and a mile or SO forward on
the trail diverts it gently to his side Of
the river with an avenue OF trees.
Then he puts up a sign SO only the
traveller approaching his house can see
&c. ~ mile TO Smiths" and another
so only the man going away can see IT,,
- miles to Smiths" Any one who
has Travelled much In the north gets a
fairly good idea Of how far he goes at
his customary gait IN an hour and can
estimate distances fairly well. But
the tricks Of the road-house break him
all up.
"How far 70 the next house," you
ask after dinner of Smith.
"Oh. it's putty good ways. fifteen
miles. I guess" drawis out mine host;
and your partner adds. eve can't
make that tonight" Then the host
ventures. ''Now. I tell you one thing
boys. you'll be doing the wise thing II
.-,,, -t.~ l.n-o aud raf q cool carly