I saw the Indians stretching the salmon on boards put up in the sun, their color in the sun a brilliant pinkish red.
I saw bears fishing at the edge of water, really catching fish in their clumsy paws.

Other bears were picking strawberries for their cubs.

As I watched them strolling away, I thought they might be looking for a stray cow to milk to add flavour to the berries.
We stopped at Wrangel to look at the totem poles, many of which have since been stolen as the Indians did not wish to sell them; our usual method of business with that abused race.

Totem poles are genealogical records, and give the history of the family before whose door they stand.

No one would quietly take the registered certificates of Revolutionary ancestors searched for with great care from the Colonial Dames or members of the New England Society, and coolly destroy them.
I agree with Charles Lamb who said he didn't want to be like a potato, all that was best of him under ground.
At Sitka the brilliant gardens and the large school for Indian girls were the objects of interest.