om such luxuries, for he refused to sell; afterward, his
gallantry getting the better of him, he politely offered me one-half of
the vegetable, which I took with thanks.

As my brother peeled the precious turnip, I asked him how long since he
had eaten one. "Two years," he promptly replied. Knowing that he was
especially fond of such things, I ate a small slice, and gave him the
remainder. It is needless to say he enjoyed it.

To the right of the landing at Forty Mile, just across a small stream
which runs into the Yukon, is Fort Cudahy, containing the stores and
warehouses of one of the large companies, as well as a post-office.

[Illustration: EAGLE CITY, ON THE YUKON, IN 1899.]

But we were soon off again, steaming along between hills yellow with
fading poplar leaves and green streaked with pines. Many rocky spurs
towered grandly heavenward, with tops, like silvered heads, covered with
newly fallen snow. The Yukon is here very crooked and narrow, and abrupt
banks hedged our steamer in on all sides.

Next morning early we arrived at Eagle City, Alaska. We were now in
Uncle Sam's land, and breathed more freely. We felt at home. We cheered
and waved our handkerchiefs to the blue uniformed soldiers on the river
bank who had come to see us.

We went ashore and called upon lieutenant L., lately from his home in
Connecticut and campaigning in Cuba. Taking us into a log house near by,
he pointed out forty thousand rounds of ammunition and one hundred and
fifteen Krag-Jorgensen rifles of the latest pattern.

Here were stationed one hundred and fifteen men, some of them at that
time out moose hunting and fishing. Captain Ray, an old white-haired
gentleman, stood outside his cabin door. At Eagle we saw the new
government barracks just being finished, the logs and shingles having
been sawed at the government saw-mill near by, at the mouth of Mission
Creek.

We were particularly struck with the very youthful appearance of our
soldiers, and their wistful faces as they watched our preparations for
departure.

The lieutenant had said that life in Cuba, or in almost any old place
was preferable to that at Eagle, with the long winter staring them in
the face, and we could see that the poor fellow longed for home. We were
quite touched, but tried to cheer him as best we could.

Circle City, on a big bend of the river from which it derives its name,
was reached the following evening. Here all hands crowded over the
gangplank