Three hours after leaving Dawson we were taking on wood at Forty Mile. This is the oldest camp on the Yukon River, and the early home of Jack McQuestion. The river banks were lined with canoes; many natives stood looking at us from the shore, and while stevedores handled the wood, many passengers visited the town. It was not long before they came back with hands full of turnips, just pulled from the ground, which, had they been the most luscious fruit, could not have been eaten with more relish. I then tried to buy one of a young man, but he had evidently been long away from 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.