I REACH WRANGEL £9

sampled some of its more prominent citizens who
came on board to have a drink.

Next day we reached Ketchikan, the port of entry
to Alaska, where we were inspected by the U.S. medical
officer before we were allowed to go on shore. Ket-
chikan is a small town, and greatly reminded me of
the small fishing towns on the west coast of Norway,
with their many wharves and sheds. The primeval
forest reaches right down to the houses, and behind
the town rises a mountain surmounted by a large cap
of snow. The chief thing of interest to the traveller is
the salmon creek I have already referred to. In the
pool below the falls the fish could be seen lying in one
dense mass, and now and then some would make
desperate leaps to get over the falls and on to the
spawning grounds.

About seven o’clock next morning we at last
steamed into Wrangel, where we were to be met by a
motor boat, which was to take us on up the Stickine
River, whose mouth is some distance north of the town.

We failed to discover the motor boat, the ‘‘Tele-
graph” as it was named, and soon there was a rumour
that it had left for Telegraph Creek a few days previously
with a party of American sportsmen. At about the
same time Teit came with the discouraging news that
the pack-horses which had been ordered for us would
not be back in Telegraph Creek for another week, and
to cap our misfortunes, it appeared that the Indian
guide, Dennis, whom Mr. Bryan Williams had retained
for me, had been chosen for another sportsman. Dennis
was considered in those days one of the best, if not
the best, of the hunters among the Tahltans, and was
in great demand as a guide.