is long inaction, I took
snow-shoes and a couple of Kobuks one day and made an ascent of the hill
behind Bettles known as Lookout Mountain, because from its top the smoke
of the eagerly expected first steamboat of the summer may be seen many
miles down the river; being moved to that particular excursion by
dispute among the weather-bound freighters as to the hill's height.

The change of temperature as we climbed the hill was striking. On the
first shoulder we were already out of the dense atmosphere of the valley
and above the smoke gloom of the houses, and as we rose the air grew
milder and milder, until at the top we emerged into the first sunshine
of many weeks and were in an altogether different climate--balmy and
grateful it was to us just come up from the strong cold. The aneroid
showed the altitude about seven hundred feet above Bettles, and I
regretted very much I had not brought the thermometer as well, for its
reading would have been most interesting.

The view from the top was brilliantly clear and far-reaching. The broad
plain across the river was checkered black and white with alternating
spruce thickets and lakes; beyond it and the mountains that bounded it
lay the valley of the south fork which we had crossed fifty or sixty
miles farther up on our journey hither. Right in front of us the middle
fork made its big bend from southwest to south, and to the left, that
is, to the north, the valley of the John River opened up its course
through the sharp white peaks of the Endicott Mountains. It was in this
direction that my eyes lingered longest. I knew that sixty or seventy
miles up this river we could cross the low Anaktuvak Pass into the
Anaktuvak River, which flows into the Colville, and that descending the
Colville we could reach the shores of the Northern Ocean. It was a
journey I had wished to make--and have wished ever since. There are many
bands of Esquimaux on that coast, never visited save by those who make
merchandise of them in one way or another. Please God, some day I should
get there; meanwhile our present hopes lay west, though, indeed, these
grew daily fainter.

CHAPTER III

BETTLES TO THE PACIFIC--THE ALATNA, KOBUK PORTAGE, KOBUK VILLAGE,
KOTZEBUE SOUND

ALL our preparations were long since made. Our Indian guide had been
sent back to Fort Yukon from Coldfoot, and here we engaged a young
Esquimau with his dog team and sled, to go across to Kotzebue Sound with
us. There was also