no means as substantially built as it might have been with the material at hand. It was perched up on a high flat bank on the western side of the river, the gable ends of the house fronting the stream, and all of them very close together, there being only one or two places wide enough for a path to allow the inmates to pass. The fronts of the houses are nearly on the same line, and this row is so close to the scarp of the bank that the "street" in front is a very narrow path, where two persons can hardly pass unless one of them steps indoors or down the hill; and when I visited the village the road was so monopolized by scratching dogs that I could hardly force my way through them. This street may have been much wider in times of yore-for it seemed to be quite an old village-and the encroachments of the eroding river during freshets may have reduced it to its present narrowness. If so, it will not be long before the present village must be abandoned or set back some distance. Further up the river we saw a single pole house projecting over the bank about a fourth or a third of its length, and deserted by its occupants. The body of the houses is of a very inferior construction, in which ventilation seems to be the predominating idea (although even this is not developed to a sufficient degree, as judged by one's nose upon entering), and the large door in front is roughly closed by a well-riddled moose or caribou skin, or occasionally by a piece of canvas so dirty that at the distance of a few feet it might be taken for an animal's skin. The roofs are of skins battened down by spruce poles, which, projecting beyond the comb in irregular lengths, often six and eight feet, gave the whole village a most bristling appearance. A fire is built on the dirt-floor, in the center of the habitation, and the smoke left to get out the best way it can. As the occupants are generally sitting flat on the floor, or stretched out at full length on their backs or stomachs in the dirt, they are in a stratum of air comparatively clear; or, at least, endurable to Indian lungs. The ascending smoke finds ample air-holes among the upper cracks of the walls, while that dense mass of it which is retained under the skins of the roof, making it almost impossible to stand upright, is utilized for smoking the salmon which are hung up in this space. The Indian name of the village is Klat-ol-klin', but it is generally known on the Middle River as Johnny's Village, after the chief's Americanized name. That dignitary was absent on a journey of several days down the river, at the time of our arrival. A number of long leaning poles, braced on their downhill ends by cross uprights, were noticed on the gravel beach in front of the village; these serve as scaffoldings upon which to dry salmon in the sun, and to keep them from the many dogs while undergoing this process. While taking a photograph of the town, two or three salmon fell from the poles; and in a twinkling fully sixty or seventy dogs were huddled together about them in a writhing mass, each one trying to get his share,—and that of several others. The camera was sighted toward them, a hurried guess made as to the proper focus, and an instantaneous view attempted, but the negative looked more like a representation of an approaching thunder shower, and I never afterward printed from it. Occasionally in these rushes a row of scaffolding will be knocked down, and if it happens to be loaded with salmon the consequent feast will be of a more extensive nature. These dogs were of a smaller breed, and noticeably of a darker color, than the Eskimo dogs of the lower river. They are employed by these Indians for the same purposes, but to a more limited extent. It was at this village that what to me was the most wonderful and striking performance given by any natives we encountered on the whole trip was displayed. I refer to their method of fishing for salmon. I have already spoken of the extreme muddiness of the Yukon below the mouth of the White River; and this spot, of course, is no exception. I believe I do not exaggerate in the least when I say, that, if an ordinary pint tin-cup were filled with it, nothing could be seen at the bottom until the sediment had settled. The water is about nine or ten feet deep on the fishing banks in front of the houses, where they fish with their nets; or at least that is about the length of the poles to which the nets are attached. The salmon I saw them take were caught about two hundred or two hundred and fifty yards directly out from the shore in front of the houses. Standing in front of this row of cabins, some person, generally an old man, squaw or child, possibly on duty for that purpose, would announce, in a loud voice, that a salmon was coming up the river, perhaps from a quarter to a third of a mile away. This news would stir up some young man from the cabins, who from his elevated position in front of them would identify the salmon's position, and then run down to the beach, pick up his canoe, paddle and net, launch the former and start rapidly out into the river; the net lying on the canoe's birch deck in front of him, his movements being guided by his own sight and that of a |