nge, and in its fine glow we steamed into a lovely cove under
a towering height. A deserted, or almost deserted, fishing village stood
upon a green bottom land--a mere handful of lodges, with a young growth
of trees beyond, and an older growth between these and the glacier that
was glistening above them all. A cannery looking nearly new stood at the
top of a tall dock on stilts. On the extreme end of the dock was a
figure--a man, and a white man at that--with both hands in his pockets,
and an attitude of half-awakened curiosity. The figure stood
stock-still. We wondered if it lived, if it breathed, or if it was an
effigy set up there in scorn of American enterprise. We slowed up and
drew near to the dock. It was a curious picture: a half dozen log-built
lodges; a few tall piles driven into the land for steamer or trading
schooner to make fast to; a group of Indians by a feeble camp
fire,--Indians who never once changed their postures more than to
wearily lift their heads and regard us with absolute indifference.

When we were near enough to hail the motionless figure on the dock, we
did not hail him. Everybody was wildly curious: Everybody was perfectly
dumb. The whole earth was silent at last; the wheels had stopped; the
boat was scarcely moving through the water. The place, the scene, the
hour seemed under a spell. Then a bell rang very shrilly in the deep
silence; the paddles plunged into the sea again; we made a graceful
sweep under the shadow of the great mountain and proudly steamed away.
Not a syllable had been exchanged with that mysterious being on the
dock; we merely touched our hats at the last moment; he lifted his,
stalked solemnly to the top of the dock and disappeared. There is a bit
of Alaskan life for you!

CHAPTER VIII.

Juneau.

Sitka, the capital of Alaska, sleeps, save when she is awakened for a
day or two by the arrival of a steamer-load of tourists. Fort Wrangell,
the premature offspring of a gold rumor, died, but rose again from the
dead when the lust of gold turned the human tide toward the Klondike.
Juneau, the metropolis, was the only settlement that showed any signs of
vigor before the Klondike day; and she lived a not over-lively village
life on the strength of the mines on Douglas Island, across the narrow
straits. There were sea-birds skimming the water as we threaded the
labyrinthine channels that surround Juneau. We were evidently not very
far from the coast-line; for the gul