Where the Sun Swings North
It was quiet in the great store room of the Alaska Fur and TradingCompany's post at Kat-lee-an. The westering sun streaming in through aside window lighted up shelves of brightly labeled canned goods and along, scarred counter piled high with gay blankets and men's roughclothing. Back of the big, pot-bellied stove--cold now--that stoodnear the center of the room, lidless boxes of hard-tack and crackersyawned in open defiance of germs. An amber, mote-filled ray slantedtoward the moss-chinked log wall where a row of dusty fox and wolverineskins hung--pelts discarded when the spring shipment of furs had beenmade, because of flaws visible only to expert eyes. --This text refers to the Kindle Edition edition.
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