due south across country to Lake Minchumina and the
upper Kuskokwim.

The Cosna is a small stream confluent with the Tanana, about thirty
miles above the mouth of that river, and we had hoped to reach it by the
river trail upon the same day we left the mission at Tanana, the 18th of
February, 1911. But the trail was too heavy and the going too slow and
the start too late. When we had reached Fish Creek, about half-way, it
was already growing dark, and we were glad to stop in a native cabin,
where was an old widow woman with a blind daughter. The daughter,
unmarried, had a little baby, and I inquired through Walter who the
father was and whether the girl had willingly received the man or if he
had taken advantage of her blindness. She named an unmarried Indian,
known to me, and declared that she had not been consenting. It seemed a
paltry and contemptible trick to take advantage of a fatherless blind
girl. I baptized the baby and resolved to make the man marry the girl.

The next night we reached the Coschaket, which, following the Indian
rule, means "mouth of the Cosna," and found that our guide, Minchumina
John, had already relayed a load of grub that Walter had previously
brought here from Tanana, one day's march upon our journey. Our course
from the Coschaket left the Tanana River and struck across country by an
old Indian trail that had not been used that winter. Through scrubby
spruce and over frozen lakes and swamps, crossing the Cosna several
times--a narrow little river with high steep banks--the trail went,
until it brought us to a hunting camp of the Indians, about eighteen
miles from the Coschaket. Here our stuff was cached and here we spent
the night, doctoring the sick amongst them as well as we could. My eyes
had been sorely tried this day despite dark smoked glasses, for we were
travelling almost due south, and the sun was now some hours in the sky
and yet low enough to shine right in one's face. So Walter stopped at a
birch-tree, stripped some of the bark, and made an eye-shade that was a
great comfort and relief.

From this place began the slow work of double-tripping. The unbroken
snow was too deep to permit the hauling of our increased load over it
without a preliminary breaking out of a trail on snow-shoes. So camp was
left standing and Walter and John went ahead all day and returned late
at night with eight or nine miles of trail broken, while I stayed in
camp and had dog feed cooked and supper re