BREAD
By Gejpge Tc tlasury
liie sun had retired somewhere on the other side of the purpling
mountains and the first twinhiiu g stars of dusk had sprung clearly pen
dant in the evening skyj the noon, luminous, rose like a golden orange
above the spruce tress to cast its beams upon the restless water.j of
the Chilkat River as they rushed hurriedly past. Iron the depths ef
the forest, now dark with the somber ness of night,; the booming'hooting
of an owl on its nocturnal hunt echoed wierdly. rihe camp fire gleamed
yellow, throwing its flickering light across the face of idoyer as he
bent over the pan of dough he was mixing* lie had spent a strenuous day
mapping the islands that dotted the river bottom below Klucktwo and our
camp in the spruce at the foot of the steep jagged mountain that now
loomed dark and mysterious above us, seemed mighty restful and homelike
as we prepared cur evening rieal*
Idoyer, finisicing mixing the dough, pulled it out into long, thin ;
strips which lie wrapped conkscrew-wise around three unpeeled branches,
giving one to me and o ae to Jimmie, an age>i Chilkat Indian friend of
ours who had stopped at our camp for an hour's visit before continuing
his journey to -0.uckwan. \Ie three then moved closer to the fire which
by this time had died down to hot embers, and over these we held our
sticks, turning them slowly, allowing the dough around ‘the sticks to
bake into bread* Removing the "stick bread” we helped ourselves from
the pot of grouse stew that was simmering on the back-coals and ate in
that silence that only the hungry out-of-door3 man can know or appreciate.
Finishing our meal, cleaning up the supper dishes, we lay back on the
'ground and watched the dancing flames of the fresh-fed fire drive back
the dark encroaching' shadows of the surrounding spruce trees,
"Jimmie," I said, interrupting the silent meditation that seemed to
mantle us all. "YJhat did the Jhilkat Indians do for their bread in the
olden days before The white man came with his flour?”
Again thru the forest the hooting of the owl boomed out reverberating
ly. Jimmie slowly shook his head and said in his queer dialect that few
can understand, but which translated means: "Isee-sku-ux, that owl, al
ways predicts bad weather. Bread? Before the white man came the Chi! ■»
kats had no flour but madd their bread from skunk cabbage and the inner
bark of hemlock trees. First they dug a hole in the ground. This they
lined with rocks. Ihey then built a hot fire in this hole. VJhen rocks
grew hot, they threw in a lictle water, then filled the hole up with
successive layers of cabbage anl the inner bark of the hemlock. This
they covered with dirt, building a fire on top of it, which they kept
burning all night. Next morning they removed bark, pounded it up in a
masher, pressed it hard into calces 'Chru which they cut a small hole in
one end and hung them up to dry. Hiis, uy friend, was the Chilkat’ s
bread."
Again we lapsed into silence, while the fire, neglected, lied down,
allowing the deeper shadows to grow darker as the forest receeded into
the gloom of night, while the moon, glorious in its golden fullness,
continued to shine tranquilly frora the star encrusted vault of the
sky.
COiaPAHY CCMiAiiDSR (to young 2nd lieutenant, who is reporting for
duty.) And now, Smith, when it coiaesto reveille, we'll alternate on
getting up and receiving the reports. I’ve done it for the last seven
years, so you can do it for the next seven. —-—-(Exchange.)