flocked down the beach and up the bank, and emitted such a chorus of unearthly howls that we were grateful to the current for hurrying us away. That day we drifted 50.5 (geographical) miles in a trifle over thirteen hours, showing but little diminution in the river's rate of speed. It was an exceedingly hot blistering day on the river, almost unbearable, and the heat, coupled with the clouds of mosquitoes, impelled the doctor to remark that it was clear to the casual observer that we were in the Arctic regions. About seven o'clock in the evening, the thermometer marking 80° Fahrenheit in the shade, we saw "sun-dogs," or parhelia, very plainly marked on either side of the western sun, a phenomenon I had so often observed in the Arctic winter and in Arctic weather elsewhere, as to seem incongruous during such tropical heat. A heavy rain shower came up about ten o'clock at night and continued at intervals until late the next morning.

"It is an ill wind that blows no one any good," and if the gnats and mosquitoes did keep us awake all night they allowed us to start two hours earlier than usual, and in spite of a gale in the afternoon that made it very difficult to steer well and to keep off the lee banks, we camped reasonably early and had forty-four miles to our credit in addition. This wind was very cold and disagreeable, with heavy black clouds overhead; a most decided change in the weather since the day before, but for the better, as the strong wind kept down the mosquitoes and gave us all a good night's rest.

The 31st was uneventful, and in fact it was only in the casual incidents of our voyage that we found any thing to interest us while floating through this region, a flat

desert clothed with spruce trees, all of a uniform size, and monotonous in the extreme. We scored forty-five geographical miles and retired at night in a rain shower, which continued with such unabated fury next day that we remained in camp. A stroll that evening disclosed the distal extremity of a mastodon's femur on the gravel beach near camp, Mr. Homan finding a tooth of the same animal near by. For many years the scattered bones of this extinct animal have been found along the Yukon, showing that this region was once its home. When at Fort Yukon an Indian brought the tooth of a mastodon to a member of my party, and receiving something for it, probably more than he expected, told the white man that the entire skeleton was protruding from the banks of one of the islands, about a day's journey up the river. Our limited time and transportation forbade investigating it further. In a few years, I suppose, the bank will be excavated by the undermining river, and the bones swept away and scattered over many bars and beaches, for it is in such places that the greatest numbers are found, while a complete skeleton in situ is a rarity.

In spite of slight showers and a general "bad outlook," we started early next morning, and were very soon driven into a slough on the left (southern) bank by a strong north-west wind. Through this spot the current was so stagnant that we were over two hours in making a little less than two miles. At one time the head wind threatened to bring us completely to a standstill, so slight was our motive power. Nor was this our only episode of the same character. Several times the exasperating wind played us this trick, and when we camped for the night after twelve hours spent on the

water, we could only reckon twenty-six miles to our credit. The event thoroughly established the fact that the central channels of the many which penetrate this flat district contain the swiftest currents, while along the main banks there are numerous water-ways open at both ends with almost stagnant water in them. About three in the afternoon we passed a double log house on the right bank with two or three small log caches mounted high in the air on the corner posts, and two graves, all of which seemed new in construction, although the place was entirely deserted. Indian signs of all kinds now began to appear as we approached the lower ramparts, although no Indians were seen. By noon the blue hills of the ramparts were seen to our left, and by the middle of the afternoon, we could make out individual trees upon them, and at half-past seven o'clock we camped on the last island in the great group of from two to ten thousand through which we had been threading our way so long, with the upper gates of the lower ramparts in full sight, about a mile or two distant.

CHAPTER XI.

THROUGH THE LOWER RAMPARTS, AND THE END OF THE

mendously steep peaks, with no outlying hills connecting them with the level valleys by gently rolling slopes, as nature has fortunately chosen to do; this approach to the lower ramparts being one of the few exceptions. The lower termination is not by any means so well marked as after the rapids at Senati's village are passed; there is a gradual lowering of the range, broken by many abrupt as well as gradual rises until the delta at the mouth of the river is reached, far beyond the point at which any traveler has placed their western limit. I think I agree pretty well with others in placing it about the mouth of the Tanana or Nuklakayet trading station.

This would give the lower ramparts a length of about one hundred miles along the river, or about one-fourth the length of the upper ramparts.

On August 3d we started at 7:30 A. M., and half an hour afterward our hearts were gladdened by re-entering the hilly country, for the flat and monotonous districts through which we had been drifting for many days induced a peculiar depression difficult to describe as well as to suffer. Our entry was signaled by the killing of three young but almost full-grown gray geese out of a small flock which we surprised as we floated around a point of land near the northern bank. This incident ushered in a hunting season when our shot-guns might have done great service but for our unfavorable condition for hunting, planted as we were upon a raft in the middle of a broad river.

We had supposed that when we entered the ramparts and the widely-scattered waters of the river were united into a single channel, our speed would surely increase; in fact, we had been told as much by the steamboat men. On the contrary, the current was distinctly slower than that of any main channel of the stream through which we had drifted since leaving the head of the river, and after floating for thirteen hours we could only reckon thirty-six geographical miles to our credit, the poorest record we had made except on days when we had stranded upon a river bar or had been forced down a side channel of slack water.

About one o'clock in the afternoon we passed three canoes hauled up on the right bank, their owners being asleep on the warm sand of the shore, nearly naked. Their clothes were hanging out to dry, and they were