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Updated: September 25, 2025
"Have they ever suffered?" "I think not." "When looking at the Thlinkit girls, for instance?" "I haven't seen them." She gave her shoulders a little shrug. "Ordinarily I would think you most uninteresting, Mr. Holt. As it is I think you unusual. And I rather like you for it. Would you mind taking me to my cabin? It is number sixteen, on this deck."
Kalitan was a Thlinkit, though, if you asked him, he would say he was "Klinkit." This is a tribe which has puzzled wise people for a long time, for the Thlinkits are not Esquimos, not Indians, not coloured people, nor whites. They are the tribes living in Southeastern Alaska and along the coast.
"I guess Tyee Klake was right when he said all men were alike," said Ted, sagely. "It seems to me that there are good and bad ones in all countries. It's a pity you have had such bad white ones here in Alaska, but I guess you have had good ones, too." "Plenty good, plenty bad, Thlinkit men and Boston men," said Kalitan, "all same." "Once a small girl child went by night to bring water.
Rushing streams roared down the sides of the mountain, thundering through deep gorges cut into the rocks through perhaps thousands of years of wear. It was a tremendous spectacle, exceeding in impressiveness anything the boys had ever looked upon. At their feet lay the wreck of the rude cabins of the early Thlinkit Indians. There was no sign of any other village.
Three miles of this through a forest-bordered trail brought them to the village. "This certainly is some town," laughed Tad. They saw before them a general store, two or three shops that looked as if they were for the purpose of supplying miners' outfits, with a few scattering cottages here and there. To the left they could make out the smoke from the new Thlinkit village.
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