The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1941-01-17
CHAPTER iii

And ] couldn't get any response to
my repeated letters to the highland
mighty Record Office officials at Jul
neau. I had to wait, as women so
often have to do in this world.
Summer, up here under the shad-
ow of the pole, seemed very short
season. I'd been twice to Anchor
age, to explore the wooden-fronted
shops and buy things to cover my
nakedness and bring home an arm
full Of month-old magazines. And
through it all, as the voice over our
tinny radio announced, "Time
marches on"
For the sun was swinging lower
and lower and the birch leaves were
turning and the wild fowl heading
south. The fireweed was red on the
hillsides and I once more faced the
familiar old task Of stocking drum
stove with spruce logs. There was
a sheeting of ice on the trail pools
in the morning and we brealfasted
by lamplight. Doctor Ruddock
brought Katie O'Connell seven wild
ducks which he'd shot on the Inlet,
explaining that the six mallards
were for the staff, and the spoonbill
for the principal. With the coming
of the first untimely snowfall, in
fact, I'd taken to whipcord riding
breaches and invested in a pair of
pacs, high boots made of rubber,
with generous enough foot room to
allow for at least two pairs of WOOL
en- socks. Katie, when she saw me
thus attired, proclaimed that once
more looked like an old-timer. Then
she went over her combination rifle
and shotgun, which she called a
"game-getter, and asked if I'd
swing in with her on a moose hunt
across the Inlet.
But instead Of a moose hunt we
went on baby hunt. For Katie had
been right about her vanished pa
poose. Word came that our poor lit
tie redskinned Oedipus had been
found abandoned in a poplar grove
east Of Wasilla. Doctor Ruddock,
who brought the news to Toklutna,
said there was passable trail
through the hills and delegated Ka-
tie and me to motor over to Mata-
nuska Valley and bring the outcast
back.
Katie, who would have started out
for Timbuctoo at a word from that
doctor of hers, lost no time. It
wasn't an entirely dignified depar-
ttre, for it took place in the schools
old wood-toting motor truck.
By noon the next day we won
through to the Matanuska River,
where we were told to push on east
ward along the valley toward what
was called the Butte. High up in
the hills, as we went, ! could see
mountain sheep, looking like little
clouds anchored to the rock lodges.
Then Katie snorted aloud. For at
a turn in the road we came face to
face with a bewhiskered old-timer
with a holstered hunting knife and
a six-gun swinging at his hip, to
say nothing of a long-barreled rife
in the crook of his arm. He looked,
for some reason, like a picture out
of the past. The light in his sat-
urnine old eye was none too kindly
as he studied us and then inspected
our Undiscovered truck.
'sThem contraptions," he mordant-
ly announced, weren't built for
North Country mushin', no more'n
women were.''
Katie, after agreeing with him,
made an effort to explain our mis-
sion there. The rugged and defiant
old figure assailed the trail ruts
with a barrage Of tobacco-juice
shrapnel.
'sInjuns like that ought t be shot.
And in the good old days." he said
as he slapped his six-gun, ''T'd a
done it on sight" He spat again.
That's what's the matter with this
whole gol-darned country. She's
gone soft on us. And stead O. spoon
feedin' them copper-bellied sons o.
she-dogs she should be putin a
bounty on their scalps." And still
again he spat. ''That's what's spill
in this OF territory. Too much gov
er'ment. I've trapped her and pros
pected her from Keewalki down t
Wrangel. And in the OF days"
"We're from the Toklutna Mis-
sion," interrupted Katie, ION an
emergency case"
$50 I savvied,'' was the unhur-
ried response. But in the OF days,
as was sayin', we could run our
own camp. But now it's your Uncle
Sam who steps in and runs us same
as he runs the Injins. He makes a
raft o. fool mimi laws, slaps a
closed season on beaver, and gifts a
game warden after us if we shoot q
lady-caribou t. keep body and soul !
together. He tells us t settle down
and grow turnips. But once we clear
an acre or two he claims we amt
provin' her up right and puts her
back in the public domain"
The old-timer, when he spat again.
was able to convert the movement
into sweeping gesture Of repudia-
ton.
And right now q thievin' lot q
politicians is set on turnin' this val
ley into q truck garden for d bunch |
n, brOken-douyn trarts.r.s,.t1 = -, - go,