[Illustration: MAY KELLOGG SULLIVAN IN ALASKA DRESS. ]

 A WOMAN WHO WENT ---- TO ALASKA

 By May Kellogg Sullivan

 ILLUSTRATED

 Boston: James H. Earle & Company 178 Washington Street

 _Copyright, 1902_ _By MAY KELLOGG SULLIVAN_

 _All Rights Reserved_

CONTENTS. 

 CHAPTER PAGE

 I Under Way 9 II Midnight on a Yukon Steamer 19 III Dawson 28 IV The Rush 36 V At The Arctic Circle 48 VI Companions 58 VII Going to Nome 78 VIII Fresh Danger 81 IX Nome 94 X The Four Sisters 109 XI Life in a Mining Camp 131 XII Bar-Room Disturbances 149 XIII Off For Golovin Bay 162 XIV Life at Golovin 184 XV Winter in the Mission 199 XVI The Retired Sea Captain 215 XVII How the Long Days Passed 231 XVIII Swarming 247 XIX New Quarters 261 XX Christmas in Alaska 275 XXI My First Gold Claims 292 XXII The Little Sick Child 311 XXIII Lights and Shadows of the Mining Camp 325 XXIV An Unpleasant Adventure 340 XXV Stones and Dynamite 354 XXVI Good-bye to Golovin Bay 374 XXVII Going Outside 379

Transcriber's Note

 Obvious printer errors have been corrected. All other inconsistencies remain as printed. 

 A list of illustrations, though not present in the original, has been provided below:

 MAY KELLOGG SULLIVAN IN ALASKA DRESS. DAWSON, Y. T. CITY HALL AT SKAGWAY. PORCUPINE CANYON, WHITE PASS. MILES CANYON. UPPER YUKON STEAMER. FIVE FINGER RAPIDS. GOING TO DAWSON IN WINTER. A KLONDYKE CLAIM. EAGLE CITY, ON THE YUKON, IN 1899. YUKON STEAMER "HANNAH. " FELLOW TRAVELERS. ESKIMOS. UNALASKA. STEAMSHIP ST. PAUL. NOME. LIFE AT NOME. CLAIM NUMBER NINE, ANVIL CREEK. CLAIM NUMBER FOUR, ANVIL CREEK, NOME. MAP OF ALASKA. ESKIMO DOGS. WINTER PROSPECTING. AT CHINIK. THE MISSION. CLAIM ON BONANZA CREEK. ON BONANZA CREEK. SKAGWAY RIVER, FROM THE TRAIN. 

PREFACE

This unpretentious little book is the outcome of my own experiences andadventures in Alaska. Two trips, covering a period of eighteen monthsand a distance of over twelve thousand miles were made practicallyalone. 

In answer to the oft-repeated question of why I went to Alaska I canonly give the same reply that so many others give: I wanted to go insearch of my fortune which had been successfully eluding my grasp for agood many years. Neither home nor children claimed my attention. No goodreason, I thought, stood in the way of my going to Alaska; for myhusband, traveling constantly at his work had long ago allowed me carteblanche as to my inclinations and movements. To be sure, there was nomoney in the bank upon which to draw, and an account with certainfriends whose kindness and generosity cannot be forgotten, was opened upto pay passage money; but so far neither they nor I have regrettedmaking the venture. 

I had first-class health and made up in endurance what I lacked inavoirdupois, along with a firm determination to take up the first honestwork that presented itself, regardless of choice, and in the meantime tosecure a few gold claims, the fame of which had for two years reached myears. 

In regard to the truthfulness of this record I have tried faithfully torelate my experiences as they took place. Not all, of course, have beenincluded, for numerous and varied trials came to me, of which I have notwritten, else a far more thrilling story could have been told. 

Enough has, however, been noted to give my readers a fair idea of awoman's life during a period of eighteen months in a few of the roughestmining camps in the world; and that many may be interested, and to someextent possibly instructed by the perusal of my little book, is thesincere wish of the author. 

 MAY KELLOGG SULLIVAN. 

A WOMAN WHO WENT--TO ALASKA. 

CHAPTER I. 

UNDER WAY. 

My first trip from California to Alaska was made in the summer of 1899. I went alone to Dawson to my father and brother, surprising them greatlywhen I quietly walked up to shake hands with them at their work. Theamazement of my father knew no bounds, --and yet I could see a lot ofquiet amusement beneath all when he introduced me to his friends, whichplainly said:

"Here is my venturesome daughter, who is really a 'chip off the oldblock, ' so you must not be surprised at her coming to Alaska. "

Father had gone to the Klondyke a year before at the age of sixty-four, climbing Chilkoot Pass in the primitive way and "running" Miles Canyonand White Horse Rapids in a small boat which came near being swamped inthe passage. 

My brother's entrance to the famous gold fields was made in the samedangerous manner a year before; but I had waited until trains over theWhite Pass and Yukon Railroad had been crossing the mountains daily fortwo weeks before myself attempting to get into Alaska's interior. Atthat time it was only a three hours' ride, including stops, over thePass to Lake Bennett, the terminus of this new railroad, the first inAlaska. A couple of rude open flat cars with springless seats along thesides were all the accommodation we had as passengers from the summit ofWhite Pass to Lake Bennett; we having paid handsomely for the privilegeof riding in this manner and thinking ourselves fortunate, consideringthe fact that our route was, during the entire distance of aboutforty-five miles, strewn with the bleaching bones of earlier argonautsand their beasts of burden. 

Naturally, my traveling companions interested me exceedingly. There werefew women. Two ladies with their husbands were going to Dawson onbusiness. About eight or ten other women belonging to the rapid class ofindividuals journeyed at the same time. We had all nationalities andclasses. There were two women from Europe with luggage covered withforeign stickers, and a spoken jargon which was neither German norFrench, but sounded like a clever admixture of both. 

Then there was the woman who went by the name of Mrs. Somebody or otherwho wore a seal-skin coat, diamond earrings and silver-mounted umbrella. She had been placed in the same stateroom with me on the steamer atSeattle, and upon making her preparations to retire for the night hadoffered me a glass of brandy, while imbibing one herself, which Ienergetically, though politely, refused. At midnight a second woman ofthe same caste had been ushered into my room to occupy the third andlast berth, whereupon next morning I had waited upon the purser of theship, and modestly but firmly requested a change of location. In agentlemanly way he informed me that the only vacant stateroom was asmall one next the engine room below, but if I could endure the noiseand wished to take it, I could do so. I preferred the proximity andwhirr of machinery along with closer quarters to the company of the twoadventuresses, so while both women slept late next morning I quietly andthankfully moved all my belongings below. Here I enjoyed the luxury of aroom by myself for forty-eight hours, or until we reached Skagway, completely oblivious to the fact that never for one instant did thepounding of the great engines eight feet distant cease either day ornight. 

[Illustration: DAWSON, Y. T. ]

A United States Judge, an English aristocrat and lady, a Seattle lawyer, sober, thoughtful and of middle age, who had been introduced to me by afriend upon sailing, and who kindly kept me in sight when we changedsteamers or trains on the trip without specially appearing to do so; anice old gentleman going to search for the body of his son lost in theKlondyke River a few weeks before, and a good many rough miners as wellas nondescripts made up our unique company to Dawson. Some had been overthe route before when mules and horses had been the only means oftransportation over the Passes, and stories of the trials and dangers offormer trips were heard upon deck each day, with accompaniments of oathsand slang phrases, and punctuated by splashes of tobacco juice. 

On the voyage to Skagway there was little seasickness among thepassengers, as we kept to the inland passage among the islands. At ashort distance away we viewed the great Treadwell gold mines on DouglassIsland, and peered out through a veil of mist and rain at Juneau underthe hills. Here we left a few of our best and most pleasant passengers, and watched the old Indian women drive sharp bargains in curios, beadedmoccasins, bags, etc. , with tourists who were impervious to the greatrain drops which are here always falling as easily from the clouds asleaves from a maple tree in October. 

Our landing at Skagway under the towering mountains upon beautiful LynnCanal was more uneventful than our experience in the Customs House atthat place, for we were about to cross the line into Canadian territory. Here we presented an interesting and animated scene. Probably onehundred and fifty persons crowded the small station and baggage room, each one pushing his way as far as possible toward the officials, whowith muttered curses hustled the tags upon each box and trunk as it washastily unlocked and examined. Ropes and straps were flung about thefloor, bags thrown with bunches of keys promiscuously, while transfermen perspiring from every pore tumbled great mountains of luggage hitherand thither. 

[Illustration: CITY HALL AT SKAGWAY. ]

Two ponderous Germans there were, who, in checked steamer caps envelopedin cigar smoke of the best brand, protested vigorously at the opening oftheir trunks by the officers, but their protests seemed only the more towhet the appetites of these dignitaries. The big Germans had theirrevenge, however. In the box of one of these men was found with otherthings a lot of Limburger cheese, the pungent odor of which drove thewomen screaming to the doors, and men protesting indignantly after them;while those unable to reach the air prayed earnestly for a good stiffbreeze off Lynn Canal to revive them. The Germans laughed till tears randown their cheeks, and cheerfully paid the duty imposed. 

Skagway was interesting chiefly from its historical associations as aport where so many struggling men had landed, suffered and passed onover that trail of hardship and blood two years before. 

Our little narrow gauge coaches were crowded to their utmost, menstanding in aisles and on platforms, and sitting upon wood boxes andhand luggage near the doors. 

It was July, and the sight of fresh fruit in the hands of those lunchingin the next seat almost brought tears to my eyes, for we were now goingfar beyond the land of fruits and all other delicacies. 

"Pick it up, old man, pick it up and eat it, " said one rough fellow ofevident experience in Alaska to one who had dropped a cherry upon thefloor, "for you won't get another while you stay in this country, if itis four years!"

"But, " said another, "he can eat 'Alaska strawberries' to his heart'scontent, summer and winter, and I'll be bound when he gets home to theStates he won't thank anyone for puttin' a plate of beans in front ofhim, he'll be that sick of 'em! I et beans or 'Alaska strawberries' fornine months one season, day in and day out, and I'm a peaceable man, butat the end of that time I'd have put a bullet through the man whooffered me beans to eat, now you can bet your life on that! Don't neverinsult an old timer by puttin' beans before him, is my advice if you dotry to sugar-coat 'em by calling 'em strawberries!" and the man thumpedhis old cob pipe with force enough upon the wood box to empty the ashesfrom its bowl and to break it into fragments had it not been wellseasoned. 

Upon the summit of White Pass we alighted from the train and boardedanother. This time it was the open flat cars, and the Germans came nearbeing left. As the conductor shouted "all aboard" they both scrambled, with great puffing and blowing owing to their avoirdupois, to the rearend of the last car, and with faces purple from exertion plumpedthemselves down almost in the laps of some women who were laughing atthem. 

[Illustration: PORCUPINE CANYON, WHITE PASS. ]

We had now a dizzy descent to make to Lake Bennett. Conductor andbrakeman were on the alert. With their hands upon the brakes these menstood with nerves and muscles tense. All talking ceased. Some of usthought of home and loved ones, but none flinched. Slowly at first, thenfaster and faster the train rolled over the rails until lakes, hills andmountains fairly flew past us as we descended. At last the train's speedwas slackened, and we moved more leisurely along the foot of themountains. We were in the beautiful green "Meadows" where pretty andfragrant wild flowers nodded in clusters among the tall grass. 

At Bennett our trunks were again opened, and we left the train. We wereto take a small steamer down the lakes and river for Dawson. We were nolonger crowded, as passengers scattered to different boats, some goingeast to Atlin. With little trouble I secured a lodging for one nightwith the stewardess of the small steamer which would carry us as far asMiles Canyon or the Camp, Canyon City. From there we were obliged towalk five miles over the trail. It was midsummer, and the woods throughwhich we passed were green. Wild flowers, grasses and moss carpeted ourpath which lay along the eastern bank of the great gorge called MilesCanyon, only at times winding away too far for the roar of its rushingwaters to reach our ears. No sound of civilization came to us, and nolife was to be seen unless a crow chanced to fly overhead in search ofsome morsel of food. Large forest trees there were none. Tall, straightsaplings of poplar, spruce and pine pointed their slender fingersheavenward, and seemed proudly to say:

"See what fortitude we have to plant ourselves in this lonely Northlandwith our roots and sap ice-bound most of the year. Do you not admireus?" And we did admire wonderingly. Then, again, nearing the banks ofMiles Canyon we forged our way on up hill and down, across wet spots, over boulders and logs, listening to the roar of the mighty torrentdashing between towering, many-colored walls of rock, where the volumeof water one hundred feet in width with a current of fifteen miles anhour, and a distance of five-eighths of a mile rushes insistentlyonward, as it has, no doubt, done for ages past. Then at last widening, this torrent is no longer confined by precipitous cliffs but betweensparsely wooded banks, and now passes under the name of "White HorseRapids, " from so strangely resembling white horses as the waters aredashed over and about the huge boulders in mid-stream. Here many of theearlier argonauts found watery graves as they journeyed in small boatsor rafts down the streams to the Klondyke in their mad haste to reachthe newly discovered gold fields. 

After leaving White Horse Rapids we traveled for days down the river. Mylittle stateroom next the galley or kitchen of the steamer wasfrequently like an oven, so great was the heat from the big cookingrange. The room contained nothing but two berths, made up with blanketsand upon wire springs, and the door did not boast of a lock of anydescription. Upon application to the purser for a chair I received acamp stool. Luckily I had brushes, combs, soap and towels in my bag, fornone of these things were furnished with the stateroom. In the stern ofthe boat there was a small room where tin wash basins and roller towelsawaited the pleasure of the women passengers, the water for theirablutions being kept in a barrel, upon which hung an old dipper. Toclean one's teeth over the deck rail might seem to some an unusualundertaking, but I soon learned to do this with complacency, it beingsomething of gain not to lose sight of passing scenery while performingthe operation. 

[Illustration: MILES CANYON. ]

At Lake La Barge we enjoyed a magnificent panorama. Bathed in the rosyglow of a departing sunset, this beautiful body of water sparkled likediamonds on all sides of us. Around us on every hand lay the green andquiet hills. Near the waters' edge they appeared a deep green, but grewlighter in the distance. Long bars of crimson, grey and gold streakedthe western horizon, while higher up tints of purple and pink blendedharmoniously with the soft blue sky. As the sun slowly settled thecolors deepened. Darker and darker they grew. The warm soft glow haddeparted, and all was purple and black, including the waters beneath us;and as we passed through the northern end or outlet of the lake intoThirty Mile River we seemed to be entering a gate, so narrow did theentrance to the river appear between the hills. 

At night our steamer was frequently tied up to a wood pile along thebanks of the river. No signs of civilization met our eyes, except, perhaps, a rude log hut or cabin among the trees, where at night, hissolitary candle twinkling in his window and his dogs baying at the moon, some lonely settler had established himself. 

The Semenow Hills country is a lonely one. Range upon range of rolling, partly wooded, hills meet the eye of the traveler until it grows wearyand seeks relief in sleep. 

Five Finger Rapids was the next point of interest on our route, and I amhere reminded of a short story which is not altogether one of fiction, and which is entitled: Midnight on a Yukon Steamer. 

CHAPTER II. 

MIDNIGHT ON A YUKON STEAMER. 

The bright and yellow full moon drifted slowly upward. The sun had justset at nine in the evening, casting a warm and beautiful glow over allthe lonely landscape, for it was the most dreary spot in all the drearywilderness through which the mighty Yukon passes. 

The steamer had tied up for wood, and now the brawny stevedores withblackened hands and arms were pitching it to the deck. 

To the passengers, of whom there were a goodly number, time hungheavily, and the younger ones had proposed a dance. Musical instrumentswere not numerous, but such as there were, were brought out, and twonon-professionals with an accordion and a banjo, were doing their verybest. 

A small number of sober ones were to be seen on deck pacing restlesslyback and forth, for the ruthless mosquito was distinctly on evidence, and threatened to outgeneral the quiet ones, if not the orchestra andthe hilarious dancers. 

On the upper deck, a lady, clad in warm cloak and thick veil, walkedtirelessly to and fro. A big stump-tailed dog of the Malemute tribe attimes followed at her heels, but when she had patted his head andspoken kindly to him he appeared satisfied, and lay down again with hishead between his paws. Then sounds from the dancers below, the shrilllaughter of the women mingled with the strum of the banjo and the wheezyaccordion seemed to disturb the dog's slumber, and he would again paceup and down at the lady's heels. 

At times there would come a lull in the tumult, and the click of theglasses or crash of a fallen pitcher would make a variety ofentertainment for the lady and her dog on the upper deck; but the shortand dusky midnight was well passed before the dancing ceased and partialquiet and order were restored. 

Two figures remained near the stern of the boat. One, a young woman witha profusion of long auburn hair, the other a man with flushed face andthick breath. 

"I cannot tell now which one it will be, " said the girl coquettishly, "but if you wait you will see. "

"No more waitin' in it, " he growled. "I have waited long enough, and toolong, and you must choose between us now. You know we will soon be at'Five Fingers, ' and you must be good or they may get you, " with a wickedleer and clutch at her arm calculated to startle her as she carelesslysat on the deck rail. 

"I'm not afraid of 'Five Fingers' or any other fingers, and I'm notafraid of your two hands either, " making her muscles very tense, andsitting rigidly upright, "and you can't scare me a bit; I'll do as Ilike, so there!"

By this time the moon shone high above the tops of the tall slenderpines, and spread its soft light over all the swift and swirling waters. To the west, the hills faded first from green to blue, then to purple, and lastly to black, silhouetted as they were against the quiet sky. 

The swift flowing current pushed the waters up among the weeds andbushes along the river's edge and the loose rocks were washed quitesmooth. Now and then might be heard the bark of a wood-chopper's dogstationed outside his master's cabin, and the steady thud of the steamernever stopped. At two o'clock it was growing light again, and still theyoung man pleaded with the girl on the deck. She was stubborn andsilent. 

Swiftly now the boat neared the "Five Fingers. " Only a few milesremained before the huge boulders forming the narrow and tortuouschannels called the "Five Fingers" would be reached, and the face of thepilot was stern. It was a most dangerous piece of water and many boatshad already been wrecked at this point. 

Suddenly above the noise of the waters and the steamer's regularbreathing there arose on the quiet air a shrill shriek at the stern ofthe boat. 

The lady on the upper deck had retired. The captain was sleeping off histoo frequent potations, and only the pilot on the lookout knew that thescream came from a woman; but it was not repeated. 

The pilot's assistant was off watch, and his own duty lay at the wheel;so it happened that a guilty man who had been standing by the deck railcrept silently, unnoticed, and now thoroughly sobered, to his stateroom. 

His companion was nowhere to be seen. 

A small steamer following next day in the wake of the first boat, cameto Five Finger Rapids. 

"See the pretty red seaweed on the rocks, mamma, " cried a little boy, pointing to the low ledge on the bank of the east channel. 

Those who looked in the direction indicated by the boy saw, as thesteamer crept carefully up to the whirlpool, a woman's white face in thewater, above which streamed a mass of long auburn hair, caught firmly onthe rocks. 

Standing by the side of his pilot, the captain's keen eye caught sightof the head and hair. 

"It's only Dolly Duncan, " he said, with a shrug of his shoulders. "Noone else has such hair; but it's no great loss anyway; there are manymore of such as she, you know. "

[Illustration: UPPER YUKON STEAMER. ]

CHAPTER III. 

DAWSON. 

By this time we had passed the Hootalingua, Big Salmon, Little Salmonand Lewes rivers, and were nearing the mouth of Pelley River, allflowing into one stream from the east and uniting to form the UpperYukon. Many smaller rivers and creeks from the west as well as the eastempty into this river which gathers momentum and volume constantly untilit reaches a swiftness of five miles an hour between Five Finger Rapidsand Fort Selkirk. 

This latter fort is an old Canadian Post where mounted police and otherofficers and soldiers are stationed. Never shall I forget my firstexperience at Fort Selkirk. We arrived about one o'clock in theafternoon and were told that our steamer would remain there an hour, giving us all a chance to run about on shore for a change. Taking mysunshade, and attracted by the wide green fields dotted with pretty wildflowers of various colors, I rambled around alone for an hour, all thetime keeping our steamer in plain sight not many hundred yards away. Curious to learn the meaning of a group of peculiar stakes driven intothe ground, some of which were surrounded by rude little fences, I mademy way in a narrow path through the deep grass to the place, and soondiscovered an Indian burial ground. There were, perhaps, twenty littlemounds or graves, a few much sunken below the level as if made longyears before, but all were marked in some manner by rude head boards. 

These were notched, and had at one time been fancifully stained orcolored by the Ayan Indians, the stains and funny little inscriptionsbeing, for the most part, obliterated by the elements. Dainty wild roseshere nodded gracefully to each other, their pretty blooms being weighteddown at times by some venturesome, big honey bee or insolent fly; bothinsects with many others, some of them unknown to me, buzzingcontentedly in the sunshine overhead. 

Daisies and buttercups grew wild. Flowering beans and peas trailed theirsprays upon the ground. Blue bells, paint brush, and other posies fairlybewildered me, so surprised was I to find them here in this farNorthland. Without this happiness and cheer given me by my sweet littlefloral friends I might not have been so well prepared to endure therudeness that was awaiting me. 

Upon my return to the steamer I found all in confusion. I could see nosigns of departure and no one of whom I cared to make inquiries. Men andwomen were coming and going, but none appeared sober, while many withflushed faces were loudly laughing and joking. A few Canadian police inred coats scattered here and there were fully as rollicking as any, and the steamer's captain and purser, arm in arm with a big, burlyCanadian official, were as drunk as bad liquor could well make them. 

[Illustration: FIVE FINGER RAPIDS. ]

Going to my stateroom I sat down to read, and, if possible, hide myanxiety. As there was no window or other ventilator, and it was a warmday, I could not close the door. While sitting thus the doorway wasdarkened, and looking up I saw before me the drunken Canadian official, leering at me with a horrible grin, and just about to speak. 

At that instant there stepped to his side the tall form of the onlyreally sober man on board--the Seattle lawyer, who, in his mostdignified manner motioned the officer on, and he went; the gentlemanlylawyer, tossing his half-consumed cigar overboard in an emphatic way asif giving vent to his inward perturbation, marched moodily on. Catchinga glimpse of his face as he passed, I concluded that the situation wasfully as bad or worse than I had at first feared. Already we had beenseveral hours at Fort Selkirk and should have been miles on towardDawson. 

The captain and crew were too drunk to know what they were doing, andthey were hourly growing more so. Many were gambling and drinking in thesalon or dining room and others came from the liquor store on shore afew rods away. The voices of the women were keyed to the highest pitchas they shouted with laughter at the rough jokes or losing games of themen, while red-faced, perspiring waiters hurried back and forth withtrays laden with bottles and glasses. Now and then the crash of a fallenpitcher or plate, followed by the shrieks of the women would reach me, and looking through the great cracks in the board partition which wasthe only thing separating me from the drunken crowd, I could see most ofthe carousal, for such it now was. 

My anxiety increased. I feared the danger of a night on board in a tinystateroom, without lock or weapon, and entirely alone. 

"Mr. H----, " said I quietly, a little later, to the man from Seattle, asI stepped up to him while he smoked near the deck rail. "When do youthink the steamer will leave this place?"

"Tomorrow, most likely, " in a tone of deep disgust. 

"Do you not think that the captain will push on tonight?" I asked ingreat anxiety. 

"I doubt if there is a man on board with enough sense left to run theengine, and the captain--look there!" pointing to a maudlin anddishevelled Canadian wearing a captain's cap, and just then trying topreserve his equilibrium on a wooden settle near the railing. "It wouldbe a blessing if the brute tumbled overboard, and we were well rid ofhim, " said the gentleman savagely in a low tone. Then, seeing myconsternation, he added: "I'll see what can be done, however, " and Ireturned to my room. 

What should I do! I knew of no place of safety on shore for me duringthe night if the steamer remained, and I dared not stay in my stateroom. I had no revolver, no key to my door. I might be murdered beforemorning, and my friends would never know what had become of me. Therewas no one on board to whom I could appeal but the lawyer, and he mightbe powerless to protect me in such a drunken rabble. With a prayer in myheart I made my nerves as tense as possible and shut my teeth tightlytogether. It was best to appear unconcerned. I did it. Suggesting awayall fright from my face I watched proceedings in the dining room throughthe cracks in the wall. It was a sight such as I had never before seen. It was six o'clock and dinner was being served by the flushed andflustered waiters. Probably a hundred persons sat at the tables in allstages of intoxication. Hilarity ran high. Most of them were wildlyjolly and gushingly full of good will; but all seemed hungry, and theodors from the kitchen were appetizing. 

I now hoped that the dinner, and especially the hot tea and coffee wouldrestore some of these people to their senses in order that they mightget up steam in the engines and pull out of this terrible place beforethey were too far gone. Dinner was well over in the dining room and Ihad not yet eaten. A waiter passed my door. He stopped. 

"Have you eaten dinner?"

"No, I have not. "

"Don't you want some?"

"Well, yes. I think I could eat something. "

"I'll bring you some. " And he was gone. 

A few minutes later he entered my stateroom with a big tray, and puttingit upon the edge of the upper berth he left me. I ate my dinner from thetray while standing, and felt better. 

An hour afterward the drunken officials had been coaxed into goingashore; the furnace in the engine room was crammed with wood; thepartially sobered pilot resumed his place at the wheel; the captain hadpulled himself together as best he could under the threats of the lawyerfrom Seattle, and the steamer moved away from the bank, going with thecurrent swiftly towards Dawson. Nothing of further importance occurreduntil next morning when our steamer pulled up alongside the dock atDawson. It was Monday morning, the thirtieth of July, 1899, and theweather was beautifully clear. I had been fourteen days coming fromSeattle. Hundreds of people waited upon the dock to see us land, and toget a glimpse of a new lot of "Chechakos, " as all newcomers are called. 

Soon after landing I met upon the street an old Seattle friend of myparents, who knew me instantly and directed me to my father. This man'skind offer to look up my baggage was accepted, and I trudged downthrough the town towards the Klondyke River, where my father and brotherlived. I had no difficulty in finding father, and after the firstsurprise and our luncheon were over we proceeded to find my brother athis work. His astonishment was as great as my father's, and I cannottruthfully state that either of them were overcome with joy at seeing mein Dawson. At any other time or place they undoubtedly would have beendelighted, but they were too well acquainted with conditions to wishanother member of their family there in what was probably then thelargest and roughest mining camp in the world. The situation thatpresented itself was this. Instead of finding my relatives comfortablysettled in a large and commodious log cabin of their own on the banks ofthe Klondyke River, as they had written they were, I found them in theact of moving all their belongings into a big covered scow or bargedrawn close to the river bank and securely fastened. Cooking utensils, boxes, bags of provisions consisting of flour, beans and meal, as wellas canned goods of every description, along with firewood and numerousother things, were dumped in one big heap upon the banks of the KlondykeRiver near the barge. 

The small sheet iron box with door and lid, called a Yukon stove, hadbeen set up close in one corner of the living room, which in size wasabout eight by ten feet. Two bunks, one above the other in the oppositecorner, had been lately constructed by father, who at the moment of myarrival was busy screwing a small drop leaf to the wall to be used as adining table when supported by a couple of rather uncertain adjustablelegs underneath. 

The meaning of all this commotion was not long to find. Father andbrother had, along with many more as peaceable and law-abiding citizens, been ordered out of their log cabins, built at a great out-lay of time, money and strength, so that their homes should be pulled down inaccordance with an order given by the Governor. This land, as the cityhad grown, had increased in value and was coveted by those high inauthority. No redress was made the settlers, no money was paid them, nothing for them but insulting commands and black looks from theCanadian police enforcing the order of the governor. 

"Never again, " said my father repeatedly, "will I build or own a home inthe Klondyke. This scow will shelter me until I make what money I want, and then good-bye to such a country and its oppressive officials. "

Other men cursed and swore, and mutterings of a serious nature wereheard; but there was nothing to be done, and the row of comfortable, completed log cabins was torn down, and we settled ourselves elsewhereby degrees. A bunk with calico curtains hung around it was made for me, and I was constituted cook of the camp. Then such a scouring of tins, kettles and pails as I had! Shelves were nailed in place for all suchutensils, and a spot was found for almost everything, after which thestruggle was begun to keep these things in their places. Then I bakedand boiled and stewed and patched and mended, between times writing inmy note book, sending letters to friends or taking kodak pictures. 

I was now living in a new world! Nothing like the town of Dawson had Iever seen. Crooked, rough and dirty streets; rude, narrow board walks ornone at all; dog-teams hauling all manner of loads on small carts, anddonkeys or "burros" bowing beneath great loads of supplies starting outon the trail for the gold mines. 

"Don't do that!" shouted a man to me one day, as I attempted to"snap-shot" his pack train of twenty horses and mules as they passed us. Two of the animals had grown tired and attempted to lie down, thuscausing the flour sacks with which they were loaded to burst open andthe flour to fly in clouds around them. "Don't do that, " he entreated, "for we are having too much trouble!"

Some of the drivers were lashing the mules to make them rise, and thisspread a panic through most of the train, so that one horse, evidentlynew to the business and not of a serious turn of mind, ran swiftly away, kicking up his heels in the dust behind him. There were also hams andsides of bacon dangling in greasy yellow covers over the backs of thepack animals, along with "grub" boxes and bags of canned goods of everydescription. Pick axes, shovels, gold pans and Yukon stoves with bundlesof stove pipe tied together with ropes, rolls of blankets, bedding, rubber boots, canvas tents, ad infinitum. 

There was one method used by "packers, " as the drivers of these packtrains were called, which worked well in some instances. If the animalsof his train were all sober and given to honestly doing their work, thenthe halter or rope around the neck of a mule could be tied to the tailof the one preceding him, and so on again until they were all reallyhitched together tandem. But woe unto the poor brute who was followed bya balky fellow or a shirk! The consequences were, at times, undercertain circumstances, almost too serious to be recounted in this story, at least this can be said of the emphatic language used by the packersin such predicament. 

One warm, bright day soon after my arrival in Dawson, and when order hadbeen brought out of chaos in the scow--our home--I went to call upon anold friend, formerly of Seattle. Carrie N. Was three or four yearsyounger than myself, had been a nurse for a time after the death of herhusband, but grew tired of that work, and decided in the winter of 1897and 1898 to go into the Klondyke. A party of forty men and women goingto Dawson was made up in Seattle, and she joined them. For weeks theywere busily engaged in making their preparations. Living near me, as shedid at the time, I was often with Carrie N. And was much interested inher movements and accompanied her to the Alaska steamer the day shesailed. It was the little ship "Alki" upon which she went away, and itwas crowded with passengers and loaded heavily with freight for the tripto Dyea, as Skagway and the dreaded White Pass had been voted out of theplans of the Seattle party of forty. 

[Illustration: GOING TO DAWSON IN WINTER. ]

Now in Dawson I called upon Carrie N. Eighteen months later, and heardher tell the story of her trip to the Klondyke. They had landed, shesaid, at Dyea from the "Alki" with their many tons of provisions andsupplies, all of which had to be dumped upon the beach where no dock orwharf had ever been constructed. Here with dog-teams and sleds, a fewhorses and men "packers, " their supplies were hauled up the mountain asfar as "Sheep Camp, " some ten miles up the mountain side. It was earlyspringtime and the snow lay deep upon the mountains and in the gorges, which, in the vicinity of Chilkoot Pass at the summit of the mountainare frightfully high and precipitous. 

The weather was not cold, and the moving of this large party of fortypersons with their entire outfit was progressing as favorably as couldbe expected. A camp had been made at Dyea as the base of operations;another was made at Sheep Camp. At each place the women of the party didthe cooking in tents while men gathered wood, built fires, and broughtwater. Other men worked steadily at the hauling, and most of theirsupplies had already been transported to the upper camp; when thereoccurred a tragedy so frightful as to make itself a part ofnever-to-be-forgotten Alaskan history. 

It was on Sunday, and a snow storm was raging, but the weather was warm. Hundreds of people thronged the trails both going up and coming down themountain in their effort to quickly transport their outfits over to theother side, and thus make the best possible time in reaching the goldfields. Here a difference of opinion arose among the people of ourSeattle party, for some, more daring than the others, wished to push onover the summit regardless of the storm; while the more cautious onesdemurred and held back, thinking it the part of discretion to wait forbetter weather. A few venturesome ones kept to their purpose and startedon ahead, promising to meet the laggards at Lake Bennett with boats oftheir own making in which to journey down the river and lakes to Dawson. 

Their promises were never fulfilled. 

While they, in company with hundreds of others as venturesome, trudgedheavily up the narrow trail, a roar as of an earthquake suddenly soundedtheir death-knell. Swiftly down the mountain side above them tore theterrible avalanche, a monster formation of ice, snow and rock, thelatter loosened and ground off the face of old Chilkoot by the rushingforce of the moving snowslide urged on by a mighty wind. In an instant'stime a hundred men and women were brushed, like flies from a ceiling, off the face of the mountain into their death below, leaving a spacecleared of all to the bare earth where only a few seconds before hadstood the patient toilers on the trail. 

Only one thing remained for the living to do, and that was to drop allelse and rescue, if possible, the dying and engulfed ones. This theydid. When the wind had died away the snow in the air cleared, andhundreds of men threw themselves into the rescue work. Many were injuredbut lived. Some were buried in snow but found their way to light again. One man was entirely covered except one arm which he used energeticallyto inform those above him of his whereabouts. He was taken out unharmed, and lived to welcome the writer of this to Dawson, where he carted anddelivered her trunk faithfully. 

But Carrie N. Had remained at Sheep Camp and was safe. Then herexperience in nursing stood her in good stead; and while men brought thedead to camp, she, with others, for hours performed the services whichmade the bodies ready for burial. It was a heart-rending undertaking andrequired a cool head and steady hand, both of which Carrie N. Possessed. Two men of her party thus lost their lives, and it was not until daysafterward that the last of the poor unfortunates were found. Nearly onehundred lives were lost in this terrible disaster, but there wereundoubtedly those whose bodies were never found, and whose death stillremains a mystery. 

CHAPTER IV. 

THE RUSH. 

Since the discovery of gold by George Carmack on Bonanza Creek inSeptember, 1896, the growth of this country has been phenomenal, moreespecially so to the one who has visited and is familiar with Dawson andthe Klondyke mining section. 

As to the entire yield of gold from the Klondyke Creeks, none can sayexcept approximately; for the ten per cent. Royalty imposed by theCanadian government has always met a phase of human nature which promptsto concealment and dishonesty, so that a truthful estimate cannot bemade. 

The Canadian Dominion government is very oppressive. Mining laws arevery arbitrary and strictly enforced. A person wishing to prospect forgold must first procure a miner's license, paying ten dollars for it. Ifanything is discovered, and he wishes to locate a claim, he visits therecorder's office, states his business, and is told to call again. Inthe meantime, men are sent to examine the locality and if anything ofvalue is found, the man wishing to record the claim is told that it isalready located. The officials seize it. The man has no way ofascertaining if the land was properly located, and so has no redress. Ifthe claim is thought to be poor, he can locate it by the payment of afifteen dollar fee. 

One half of all mining land is reserved for the crown, a quarter or moreis gobbled by corrupt officials, and a meagre share left for the daringminers who, by braving hardship and death, develop the mines and open upthe country. 

"Any one going into the country has no right to cut wood for anypurpose, or to kill any game or catch any fish, without a license forwhich a fee of ten dollars must be paid. With such a license it isunlawful to sell a stick of wood for any purpose, or a pound of fish orgame. " The law is strictly enforced. To do anything, one must have aspecial permit, and for every such permit he must pay roundly. 

The story is told of a miner in a hospital who was about to die. Herequested that the Governor be sent for. Being asked what he wanted withthe Governor, he replied: "I haven't any permit, and if I shouldundertake to die without a permit, I should get myself arrested. "

It is a well-known fact that many claims on Eldorado, Hunker and BonanzaCreeks have turned out hundreds of thousands of dollars. One pan ofgravel on Eldorado Creek yielded $2100. Frank Dinsmore on Bonanza Creektook out ninety pounds of solid gold or $24, 480 in a single day. OnAleck McDonald's claim on Eldorado, one man shoveled in $20, 000 intwelve hours. McDonald, in two years, dug from the frozen ground$2, 207, 893. Charley Anderson, on Eldorado, panned out $700 in threehours. T. S. Lippy is said to have paid the Canadian government $65, 000in royalties for the year 1898 and Clarence Berry about the same. 

On Skukum Gulch $30, 000 were taken from two boxes of dirt. FrankPhiscator of Michigan, after a few months' work, brought home $100, 000in gold, selling one-third of his claim interests for $1, 333, 000, or atthe rate of $5, 000, 000 for the whole. 

When a man is compelled to pay one thousand dollars out of every tenthousand he digs from the ground, he will boast little of large"clean-ups"; and for this reason it is hard to estimate the real amountof gold extracted from the Klondyke mines. 

Captain James Kennedy, an old pioneer and conservative mining man, estimates the output for the season of 1899 as $25, 000, 000, or fiftytons of dust and nuggets. 

The most commendable thing about the Canadian Government is their strictenforcement of order. Stealing is an almost unheard of thing, and pettythieving does not exist. Mounted police in their brown uniforms andsoldiers in their red coats are everywhere seen in and around Dawson, and they practice methods, which, to the uninitiated, make them verynearly omnipresent. 

While walking down street in Dawson one morning about nine o'clock, Ipassed a group of men all wearing sober faces. "They're done for now, "said a rough miner, glancing in the direction of the Barracks, where ablack flag was fluttering at the top of a staff. 

"How so?" asked another, just come up to the group. 

"Three men hung over there, an hour ago. They're goin' to bury 'em now, "and the speaker twitched his thumbs first toward the Barracks, thenfarther east, where a rough stretch of ground lay unused. Here could beseen policemen and soldiers, evidently in the midst of some performancenot on their daily routine. 

A number of prisoners wearing the regulation garb ofconvicts, --pantaloons of heavy mackinaw, one leg of yellow and the otherof black, --were carrying long, rough boxes, while others were diggingshallow graves. 

Upon inquiry I found that what the miner had said was true. Threeprisoners, two of them Indian murderers, with another man notoriouslybad, had indeed been hung about eight o'clock that morning in thebarracks courtyard. In less than two hours afterward they were interred, and in as many days they were forgotten. 

By the middle of July, 1899, the steamers leaving Dawson on their waydown the Yukon to St. Michael and the new gold fields at Nome, were wellfilled with those who were anxious to try their luck in Uncle Sam'sterritory where they can breathe, dig, fish, hunt, or die without buyinga license. 

By August the steamers coming from St. Michael brought such glowingaccounts of the Nome gold fields, that while few people came in, theycarried as many out as they could accommodate. 

By September the rush down the Yukon was tremendous, and of the twelvethousand people in Dawson many hundreds left for Nome. 

When, after six weeks spent in curiously studying conditions andthings, --not to say people, --in the great mining camp, it was decidedthat I should accompany my brother down the Yukon to Cape Nome, and so"out" home to San Francisco, I felt a very distinct sense ofdisappointment. The novelty of everything, the excitement which cameeach day in some form or other, was as agreeable as the beautiful summerweather with the long, quiet evenings only settling into darkness atmidnight. 

In September came the frosts. Men living in tents moved their littleYukon stoves inside, and brought fresh sawdust and shavings from themills for their beds. Others packed their few possessions into smallboats, hauled down their tents, whistled to their dogs, and rolling uptheir sleeves, pulled laboriously up the swift little Klondyke to theirwinter "lays" in the mines. 

Hundreds were also leaving for the outside. Steamers, both large andsmall, going to White Horse and Bennett, carried those who hadjoyfully packed their bags and smilingly said good-bye; for they weregoing home to the "States. " How we strained our eyes from our cabinwindow or from the higher bank above, to see the people on the decks ofthe out-going boats. How the name of each tug and even freight-carrierbecame a familiar household word, and how many were the conjectures asto whether "she" would get through to White Horse Rapids in the lowwater before a freeze-up!

[Illustration: A KLONDYKE CLAIM. ]

One day our own steamer came. She was a magnificently equipped riverboat called the "Hannah, " belonging to the Alaska Commercial Company, and had cost one hundred thousand dollars. This was to be her last tripfor the season, and with us it was "home now, or here all winter, " andwe made ready to leave. My kodak had been emptied and filled again, calls on acquaintances made, and good-byes said. My battered and brokentrunk, which, at the hands of the English customs officials had sufferedmuch, had now to be repaired and put to a good long test. This box wasin a state of total collapse; rollers all gone, covering torn and bent, screws and nails lost, sides split, bottom entirely dropped out, but itmust go; so my big brother was wheedled into putting it into some kindof shape again, and it came out stronger than before. 

No lunches were needed. The cuisine of the Hannah was said to be asperfect as could be in this far away corner of the globe, and we trustedto that. 

On September sixteenth the Hannah sounded her whistle--all was hurry andbustle, and such a sight! If hundreds had stood on the docks to welcomeus as we entered the city, there were thousands now. It was pleasant. Wefelt flattered, especially as the band struck up our own national airs, giving us a medley of "Yankee Doodle, " "America, " "Tramp, Tramp, Tramp, "and "When Johnny Comes Marching Home. " They felt constrained, however, to wind up with "Sweet Marie, " and rag-time dances, one old fellow inslouch hat and with a few drinks too many, stepping the jigs off inlively and comical fashion. 

Our pride was perceptibly lessened afterward, when we learned that wehad on board a dance hall outfit, and the band belonged to the MonteCarlo saloon!

We were now in the midst of a group, cosmopolitan beyond our wildestdreams. Pushing their way through the crowd to the gangplank came men, women and dogs, carrying grips, kodaks, tin cash boxes, musicalinstruments, army sacks, fur robes, and rolls of blankets. Strugglingunder the weight of canvas tents, poles, Yukon stoves and sleds, as wellas every conceivable thing, they climbed the stairway to the deck. Here, and in the main saloon, all was deposited for the time being. 

There was a woman with a fine grey cat, for which she had been offeredfifty dollars, wrapped in a warm shawl, much to pussy's disgust. Anumber of women had dogs and were weeping, probably at leaving othercanines behind. Several persons carried little grips so heavy that theytugged along--evidently "Chechako, " or paper money, was more scarce withthem than dust and nuggets. 

As freight, there was a piano, many iron-bound boxes containing goldbullion, securely sealed and labeled, and tons of supplies for theconsumption of the passengers, of whom there were now five hundred. 

Then the whistle again sounded--the gangplank was hauled in, handkerchiefs fluttered, the band struck up "Home Sweet Home"--we wereheaded down the Yukon River and toward the Arctic Circle. 

 * * * * *

We had now a journey of seventeen hundred miles before us. We were totraverse a country almost unknown to man. We were two of a party of fivehundred persons, the majority of whom, if not actually desperadoes, werereckless and given over to the pursuit of gold regardless of the mannerof its getting. There were loose characters of the town by hundreds;there were gamblers running a variety of games both day and night; therewere dance house girls and musicians; there were drunks and toughs, andone prize fighter. No firearms or knives were seen, though many, nodoubt, had them. 

With the enormous amount of gold on board (for the steamer's safe wasoverflowing, and the purser's room well packed with the precious stuff), with the numbers of hard characters we carried, and the now increasingremoteness from centres of government, there were dangers, we wereforced to confess, but which we only admitted in whispers. 

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 JackMcQuestion. The river banks were lined with canoes; many natives stoodlooking at us from the shore, and while stevedores handled the wood, many passengers visited the town. It was not long before they came backwith hands full of turnips, just pulled from the ground, which, had theybeen the most luscious fruit, could not have been eaten with morerelish. 

I then tried to buy one of a young man, but he had evidently been longaway from such luxuries, for he refused to sell; afterward, hisgallantry getting the better of him, he politely offered me one-half ofthe vegetable, which I took with thanks. 

As my brother peeled the precious turnip, I asked him how long since hehad eaten one. "Two years, " he promptly replied. Knowing that he wasespecially fond of such things, I ate a small slice, and gave him theremainder. It is needless to say he enjoyed it. 

To the right of the landing at Forty Mile, just across a small streamwhich runs into the Yukon, is Fort Cudahy, containing the stores andwarehouses 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 withfading poplar leaves and green streaked with pines. Many rocky spurstowered grandly heavenward, with tops, like silvered heads, covered withnewly fallen snow. The Yukon is here very crooked and narrow, and abruptbanks hedged our steamer in on all sides. 

Next morning early we arrived at Eagle City, Alaska. We were now inUncle Sam's land, and breathed more freely. We felt at home. We cheeredand waved our handkerchiefs to the blue uniformed soldiers on the riverbank who had come to see us. 

We went ashore and called upon lieutenant L. , lately from his home inConnecticut and campaigning in Cuba. Taking us into a log house near by, he pointed out forty thousand rounds of ammunition and one hundred andfifteen Krag-Jorgensen rifles of the latest pattern. 

Here were stationed one hundred and fifteen men, some of them at thattime out moose hunting and fishing. Captain Ray, an old white-hairedgentleman, stood outside his cabin door. At Eagle we saw the newgovernment barracks just being finished, the logs and shingles havingbeen sawed at the government saw-mill near by, at the mouth of MissionCreek. 

We were particularly struck with the very youthful appearance of oursoldiers, and their wistful faces as they watched our preparations fordeparture. 

The lieutenant had said that life in Cuba, or in almost any old placewas preferable to that at Eagle, with the long winter staring them inthe face, and we could see that the poor fellow longed for home. We werequite touched, but tried to cheer him as best we could. 

Circle City, on a big bend of the river from which it derives its name, was reached the following evening. Here all hands crowded over thegangplank and into the stores. In less time than it takes to write it, these places were filled with miners, each man pulling away at hisstrong, old pipe, the companion of many weary months perhaps; while overthe counters they handed their gold dust in payment for the "best plugcut, " chewing gum, candy, or whatever else they saw that lookedtempting. Here we bought two pairs of beaded moccasins for sevendollars. 

As a heavy fog settled down upon us, our captain thought best to tie upthe steamer over night, and did so. Next morning by daylight we saw theoffices of the United States marshal; both log cabins with dirt roofs, upon which bunches of tall weeds were going to seed. We hoped this wasnot symbolical of the state of Uncle Sam's affairs in the interior, butfeared it might be, as the places seemed deserted. 

Many of the one thousand cabins at Circle were now vacant, but it is thelargest town next to Dawson on the Yukon River. 

During the whole of the next day our pilots steered cautiously over theYukon Flats. 

This is a stretch of about four hundred miles of low, swampy country, where the Yukon evidently loses its courage to run swiftly, for itspreads out indolently in all directions between treacherous andshifting sand-bars, fairly disheartening to all not familiar with itsmany peculiarities. 

We now learned for the first time that we were practically in the handsof three pilots, two of whom were Eskimos, one of them on a salary offive hundred dollars per month. This man was perfectly familiar with theentire river, being an expert pilot, as he proved during this trip tothe satisfaction of all. 

Owing to the near approach of winter, and the extremely low water atthis point, the captain, crew, and many others, wore anxious faces untilthe Flats were well passed. Should our steamer stick fast on a sand-bar, or take fire, we might easily be landed; but to be left in such a bleakand barren place, with cold weather approaching, snow beginning to fall, no shelter, and only provisions for a few days, with travelingcompanions of the very worst type, and no passing steamers to pick usup, we would indeed meet a hard fate, and one even the prospect of whichwas well calculated to make strong men shudder. 

CHAPTER V

AT THE ARCTIC CIRCLE. 

We were now at the Arctic Circle. For three days we had no sunshine, andflurries of snow were frequent. The mountain tops, as well as the banksand sand-bars of the river, were spread with a thin covering of snow;enough at least to give a wintry aspect. This added to the leaden skyabove, made the warmth of big coal fires acceptable indoors, and furcoats comfortable on the decks. 

At Fort Yukon the low water prevented our landing. We were told, however, that the place contained one hundred log houses, as well as anold Episcopal Mission, in which Mrs. Bumpus had lived and taught thenatives for twenty years. Many of the Eskimo girls are trained aschildren's nurses and make very satisfactory ones. 

Into the Yukon Flats empty the Porcupine River, Birch Creek and otherstreams. Fort Yukon was established by the Hudson Bay Company many yearsago, all supplies coming in and shipments of furs going out by way ofthe McKensie River and the great Canadian Lakes. 

Toward evening one day, while the stevedores were busy handling wood, wewent ashore and visited an Eskimo family in their hut. It was built onthe high river bank among the trees, quite near the steamer's landing. On the roof of the hut, there lay, stretched on sticks to dry, a largebrown bear skin. Near by we saw the head of a freshly killed moose, withthe hoofs of the animal still bloody. 

[Illustration: YUKON STEAMER "HANNAH. "]

As we stooped to enter the low door of the cabin, we felt the warmthfrom the fire in the little Yukon stove which was placed in the cornerof the room. Next to this was a rude table, on which lay a quarter ofmoose meat, looking more or less tempting to travelers living on cannedgoods. 

A bed stood in one corner, upon which two or three little children wereplaying, and upon a pile of rags and skins on the floor sat an oldEskimo woman, wrinkled and brown. These were her children andgrandchildren, and she was spending her life on the floor of the cabin, watching the little ones play around her, for she was paralyzed. 

There were no chairs in the cabin, and but few rude utensils andplaythings. A box or tin can, which had contained provisions, was nowand then utilized. 

After a few moments with the Eskimos, we backed out into the open airagain, for the atmosphere of the hut was peculiar, and not altogetheragreeable to our southern olfactories. It reminded us of Mrs. Peary'sdescription of native smells in Greenland. 

The short path back to our steamer lay through a poplar grove, andunder our feet was spread a carpet of brown and yellow leaves, which, inthe cool night air, smelled ripe and woodsy. 

Next came Fort Hamlin, where we again saw some of Uncle Sam's boys, andwhere we trudged out through the soft light snow and took some kodakviews. 

Rampart City was reached in the early evening. One long row of housesupon the south bank of the Yukon, near the mouth of the Big Minook Creekconstitutes the town. Here empty the Little Minook, Alder, Hunter, andmany other gold-bearing creeks, and a bustling town sprung up only to bealmost depopulated during the Nome excitement. 

By this time several inches of snow had fallen, and the ground wasfreezing. We managed here to climb the slippery steps of the log storebuilding in the dusk and buy a pound of ordinary candy, for which wepaid one dollar. 

Again we were in deep water. This time so very smooth that the hills, peaks, trees and islands were all mirrored on its surface, and verybeautiful. 

The days were now quite short. About five in the afternoon the electriclights were turned on through the steamer, fresh coal again piled on thefires, and we reminded ourselves how comfortably we were traveling. 

Then the dinner bell rang, and we sat down to dinner. Some attempt atdecoration had been made, for tall glasses stood in the centre of thetables filled with ripe grasses and pretty autumn leaves, but, strangeto relate, we were more interested in the contents of our soup platesand what was to follow. The cold and bracing air during our short walkson deck had given us all famous appetites, and we relished everything. 

After hot soup with crackers, we ate of fresh fish, three kinds ofcanned meats, baked or boiled potatoes, with one other kind ofvegetable, canned tomatoes, corn or beans. Side dishes consisted ofpickles, olives, cheese, sardines, canned fruits, fancy crackers orbiscuits, and afterward came pudding and pie. These last were made fromvarious canned fruits, and with the rice, sago or tapioca pudding, formed most enjoyable desserts. On Sunday nuts and raisins or appleswere added to the menu. 

If we ate with keen appetites, we were not too much occupied to takenote of the passengers around us. Nearly opposite sat a beautiful womanwith a profusion of auburn hair piled high on her head. She wasfashionably dressed in black silk or satin, and her white fingers wereloaded with costly rings. As she handed a dish to the man beside her, her diamonds and other gems sparkled brightly. Her companion, mucholder, had a hard and villainous face. A heavy frown of displeasurehabitually rested upon his brow, and his glance was shifting andevasive. He was a professional gambler, kept his game runningcontinually, and was going to Nome. 

At the end of the table sat a tall and pleasant mannered youngEnglishman, with blue eyes and ruddy cheeks. He represented mininginterests in the Klondyke amounting to millions, and was on his way toLondon. He was fond of wine, and consorted chiefly with those who werefast bringing him down to their level. 

There was the girl with pretty black eyes, lady-like movements, lowvoice, and exquisite toilettes. A blue-eyed, pretty little blonde, withinfantile complexion, small hands and feet, and wearing a tailor-madesuit attracted considerable attention. She was fond of cigarettes andsmoked many times a day, though she only looked "sweet sixteen. " Theywere both dance-house girls. 

There was a young and handsome Englishman in the triggest of dudetoggery, but having a squaw wife and three children, as well as oldermen at the head of similar broods. 

The long tables were spread two or three times at each meal, as severalhundred people were to be fed. 

A different class, and a worst one if possible, was met with at theselate meals. Do you see that short, fat woman over there with the blearedeyes, and the neck of a prize fighter? She is a Dawson saloon keeper, and is now on her way to Nome. 

But there were a number of people on the steamer not properlybelonging to this set, and after supper a few usually gathered in onecorner to listen to each other's experiences in the far Northwest. Somewere tales of hardship, sickness and death; some of hair-breadth escapesfrom the jaws of an Arctic winter, or from shipwreck. One told ofhaving, two years before, paid $175 for five sacks of flour in theKlondyke; selling the same, a few days later, for $500. Stories of richstrikes were related; how one man, while drunk, was persuaded by hisassociates to trade a valuable claim for one apparently worthless; hisindescribable feelings the next day and until he had prospected theso-called worthless claim, when it proved ten times richer than thefirst one. 

[Illustration: FELLOW TRAVELERS. ]

A little middle-aged Norwegian woman told her story with great gusto. She had sailed from Seattle two years before with Mayor Woods'expedition, getting as far as a point on the Yukon River two hundredmiles below Rampart City. Here the low water prevented their goingfarther. She, in company with others, made her way to Rampart as bestshe could, rested and "outfitted" for a trip to Dawson over the ice. Finally, with sleds and provisions, eight dogs and four men, shestarted. It was a journey of about eight hundred miles. Before leavingRampart she experimented with fur sleeping bags, and finally made one inwhich she could sleep comfortably on the ice and snow. Rice and tea weretheir staple articles of diet, being more quickly prepared in hastycamps at night, and being found most nourishing. After a perilous tripof thirty-five days in the dead of winter, they reached Dawson in goodshape, two days ahead of a party of men with whom a wager had been made. With these, and similar stories, we whiled away the long evening hoursby the fire. Many short stops were made along the river. A few littlesettlements were passed during the night. At Holy Cross and RussianMission we saw flourishing Catholic schools for the natives. 

The Yukon was now getting wider and wider, the water was shallow andmore shallow, then suddenly we felt a heavy jar. The big stern wheelrefused to move, --we were stuck fast on a sand-bar! Here we remained allday, dreading a hard freeze which was liable to settle down upon us atany time, fixing our boat and us in the ice indefinitely. But we werenow in the Aphoon, or eastern mouth of the Yukon, and near enough toBehring Sea to get the benefit of the tides; so that in the earlyevening we again heard the thud of the big machines, --the steamerquivered, --the stern wheel again revolved, --we had entered the BehringSea!

By four o'clock next morning we were in St. Michael Bay, having coveredthe sixty miles from the mouth of the river during the night. Snow wasfalling heavily through which we saw the lights of the harbor, and anumber of vessels at anchor. By daylight we counted eleven ships andtwo revenue cutters lying under the lee of the island. 

Breakfast was served on board, and an hour later we went ashore. We nowsought the steamer company's hotel, and had no difficulty in gettinggood rooms and seats at table; for we were still in their care, havingbought through tickets to San Francisco. Here we were to wait for theocean steamer "Bertha, " which was now nearly due from that place, and weanxiously watched the weather signs hoping all would be favorable, andthat she would very soon put in her appearance. 

Our hotel was a new frame building of about forty rooms, lighted byelectricity, having large halls, pleasant double parlors overlooking thebay, with a good view of incoming ships from the north. Just across thestreet stood an old block house or fort containing the funny littlecannon used by the Russians over a hundred years ago. The antiquatedlock on the door, the hundreds of bullet holes in the outer walls, wereall quaintly interesting. 

Half a mile south were stores, a hotel, another large company's dock, and in good weather we tramped over there or north the same distance tothe headquarters of a third company. These three were small settlementsby themselves, and constituted, with their employees, natives and dogs, the whole population of St. Michael. Good sidewalks connected thesedifferent stations and commanded fine and extensive views of thesurrounding water. 

St. Michael, as an island, is not large, and is entirely without treesor timber. However, there is deep, wet moss or tundra everywhere, as onesoon discovers to his sorrow if he attempts to leave the plank walks. St. Michael Bay, lying between the island and the mainland on the east, is a fine body of water. The coast line is well defined with ranges ofmountains zigzagging their cold and snowy peaks, blue tinted or purpleduring the day, and pink in the setting sun. 

St. Michael is the windiest place on earth. After a few days spent instudying the native dress of the Eskimos, and in trying to adapt my owndress to the freakish breezes I concluded that if I stayed at St. Michael I should dress as they did. If I started for the eating roomwith my hat properly placed on hair arranged with ever so much care, aheavy beaver cape, and dress of walking length, I was completelydemoralized in appearance five minutes later on reaching the mess-house. With a twisting motion which was so sudden as to totally surprise me, mydress was wound around my feet, my cape was flung as if by spitefulhands entirely over my head, causing me to step in my confusion from theplank walk; while my hat was perched sidewise anywhere above or on myshoulder. One unfortunate woman wearing an overskirt covering a stripedcambric sham, was seen daily struggling, with intense disgust on herface, up the steps of the eating house, with her unruly overskirtwaving wildly in the wind. 

But this wind did not keep the Eskimo women and children at home. Dressed in their fur parkies, which are a sort of long blouse with hoodattachment, short skirts and muckluks, or skin boots, they trotted downto the beach daily to fish, standing on the wet and slippery rocks, regardless of wind, spray or snow. Here they flung their fish lines outinto the water and hauled the little fish up dexterously; when, with acurious twitch they disengaged the finny fellows and tossed them into abig pan. Little Eskimo children ran on in front of their mothers, andshaggy dogs followed close behind at the smell of the fish. 

CHAPTER VI

COMPANIONS. 

But there were passengers arriving at St. Michael each day fromdifferent points bound for Nome. 

At last the side-wheeler "Sadie" was to leave for Nome, and what acommotion! Men in fur coats, caps and mittens, leading dogs of allcolors and sizes, some barking, but all hustled along with no thought ofanything except to reach Cape Nome as quickly as possible. At last theywere off. A rough, and in some instances a drunken lot, but allhopefully happy and sure that they would "strike it rich" in the newgold fields. Many, no doubt, were going to their death, many tohardships and disappointments undreamed of, while a few would find goldalmost inexhaustible. 

Still we waited day after day for the ocean steamer "Bertha. " One Sundaymorning we looked from the hotel windows to see a clear, cold sky, withsun and high wind. About ten o'clock we heard a steamer whistling forassistance. She was small and used for errands by one of the steamshipcompanies. Still none went to the rescue, as the gale was terrific. Asteam tug started out, but she passed by on the other side, not caringto act the part of good Samaritan to a rival. In a few moments thefires of the little steamer were out, --she was sinking. Through a glasswe saw three men on the roof of the craft--then they clung to thesmokestack. A larger steamer, though herself disabled, finally reachedthe three drowning men. It was not a moment too soon, for the water wasicy, the gale fearful. They were then hauled in, almost exhausted andfrozen. 

It was a wild day. Soon after noon, one of the two big covered barges intow by the "Lackme, " already loaded for a start for Nome, began to sink. The wind came from the north, and little by little the barge becameunmanageable, until at last she was cut loose and deserted. For an hourwe watched the barge, until, she too, sank out of sight beneath thewaters of the bay. 

Small steamers still came straggling in from Dawson crowded withpassengers going to the new gold fields, and our tired cooks andstewards in the kitchens were rushed both day and night. Here the priceof a meal, to all but those having through tickets to San Francisco, wasone dollar, and fifteen hundred meals a day were frequently served. 

In this hotel we waited two weeks, patiently at times, restlessly atother times. What would we do if the Bertha failed to appear? Possiblyshe was lost, and now drifting, a worthless derelict, at the mercy ofthe winds! Not another boat would or could carry us, tickets on each onehaving long ago been sold. If we should be frozen in all winter, withno way of letting our friends at home know of our whereabouts for sixmonths, how terrible would be their anxiety, how hard for us in thisexposed spot near the Arctic Sea! Many times a day and in the night didthis emergency present itself to us, and we shuddered. Each day weclimbed the hill a quarter of a mile away to look, Robinson Crusoe like, over the ocean to see if we could discover the "Bertha. "

In the meantime, with note book and pencil in hand I often sat in theparlor; and, while occupied to a certain extent, I gathered sundry bitsof information regarding the gold fields in this wonderful new Golconda. Two million dollars, it was said, had already been extracted from thebeach at Nome, and no estimate could be made on what was still there. The pay streak ran to the water's edge, and even farther, but just howfar, no one knew. 

Back of this beach spread the tundra, an expanse of marsh, ice andwater, which extends some four miles inland. The size of the claimsallowed by law is one thousand three hundred and twenty feet in length, and six hundred and sixty feet in width; or about twenty acres of land. The insignificant sum of $2. 50 is required to be paid the recorder. 

In the York District the area allowed for claims is smaller, being fivehundred feet in width, and the length depending on the geographicalformation or creek upon which the claim is situated. 

North of Nome there are ninety to one hundred miles of gold-bearingbeach to be worked, and again to the south a vast stretch of likecharacter extending to Norton Bay. The tundra, which is nothing but theold beach, follows the present shore, and is fully as rich as thesurf-washed sands. More productive and larger than all is the inlandregion traversed by rivers and creeks that form a veritable network ofstreams, all bordered by gold-producing soil. 

Anvil Creek, Sunset Gulch, Snow Gulch and Dexter Creek, near Nome, areall exceedingly rich; one claim on Snow Gulch having been sold for$185, 000, and another for $13, 000. 

Golovin Bay District is situated eighty-five miles east of Nome City, and is large and very rich. Fish River is the principal one in thissection, and has innumerable small tributaries running into it, most ofwhich are also rich in gold. 

Casa de Paga is a tributary of the Neukluk River, and very rich. OnOphir Creek, claim No. Four, above Discovery, $48, 000 was taken out innineteen days by the Dusty Diamond Company working seventeen men. Onnumber twenty-nine above Discovery on Ophir Creek, seventeen dollarswere taken out a day per man, who dug out frozen gravel, thawed it bythe heat of a coal-oil stove, and afterward rocked it. 

There was much discussion over the rights of those claiming mining landslocated by the power of attorney; though the majority of men hereseemed to believe they would hold good, and many such papers were madeout in due legal form. 

At last, on the morning of October ninth, the "Bertha" really appeared. It was a clear, cold day, sunny and calm. I ran in high spirits to thetop of the hill overlooking the bay to get a good view. Sure enough, there lay the "Bertha" on the bright waters as though she had alwaysbeen there. How rejoiced everyone was! How relieved were those whointended to remain here because of the additions to the winter'ssupplies, and how rejoiced were those waiting to get away? How we allbustled about, packing up, buying papers and magazines just from thesteamer, sealing and stamping letters, making notes in diaries, takingkodak views, saying good-bye to acquaintances, ad infinitum. 

All were willing to leave. Finally on the afternoon of the tenth we werestowed into the big covered barge which was to take us out to the"Bertha. " It was cold and draughty inside, so we found a sheltered placein the sun on some piles of luggage, and sat there. As the "Bertha" wasreached, a gangplank was thrown over to the barge, which came as closealongside as possible, and up this steep and narrow board we climbed, clinging to a rope held by men on both decks. 

Our trouble had now begun. We were overjoyed at making a start at last, but under what conditions! The river steamer "Hannah" had been a modelof neatness as compared with this one. On deck there were coops ofchickens, and pens of live sheep and pigs brought from San Francisco tobe put off at Nome, as well as a full passenger list for the same place. On the way here a landing had been attempted at Nome, but the surf hadbeen so tremendous that it could not be accomplished, and passengersstill occupied the staterooms that we were to have. However, we weretemporarily sandwiched in, and, about four P. M. , said good-bye to St. Michael. 

It was a lovely day and the waters of the bay were very calm. Alongshore in the most sheltered places were numbers of river steamers andsmaller craft being snugly tucked up for the winter. From three tallflagstaffs on shore there floated gracefully as many American flags asthough to wish us well on our long journey out to civilization. 

That night on board was simply pandemonium. Hundreds of people had nobeds, and were obliged to sit or walk about, many sitting in corners onthe floor, or on piles of luggage or lying under or upon the tables. Every seat and berth were taken. Many of the staterooms below werefilled from floor to ceiling with flour in sacks for Nome, as well asevery foot of space in passage-ways or pantries. Many men were sodisorderly from drink that they kept constantly swearing and quarreling, and one man, in a brawl, was almost toppled into the sea. To makethings worse, the stench from the pens of the animals on deck becamealmost unbearable, and the wind came up, making the water rough. 

There was no sleep for us that night. We longed to reach Nome that wemight be rid of some of these objectionable things, and hoped for animprovement afterward. 

From St. Michael to Nome, the distance is about one hundred andtwenty-five miles, and the latter place was reached about eight A. M. Alittle before daylight we had been startled by a series of four suddenshocks or jars, the first being accompanied by a very distinct creakingof timbers of the ship, so that some of us rose and dressed; but theship had apparently sustained no injury, and we proceeded on our way. Whether we had struck a rock, or only a sand-bar, we never knew, for theship's men laughed and evaded our questions; but the passengers believedthat the boat had touched a reef or rock, hidden, perhaps, beneath thesurface of the sea. 

By daylight the animals had been removed to a barge, and soon afterbreakfast the Nome passengers were taken ashore in like manner, for thesurf was so heavy on the beach, and there being no docks or wharves, itwas impossible for a large steamer to get nearer. 

Away in the distance to the north lay the famous new gold camp ofNome. Stretched for miles along the beach could be seen the little whitetents of the beach miners, back of which lay the town proper, and stillback, the rolling hills now partly covered with snow. Not a tree orshrub could be seen, though we strained our eyes through a strong glassin an effort to find them. A few wooden buildings larger than the restwere pointed out as the Alaska Commercial Company's warehouses andoffices, near where the loaded barges were tossed by the huge breakerstoward the beach. 

[Illustration: ESKIMOS. ]

Passengers now went ashore to visit the camps, but to my greatdisappointment I was not allowed to do so on account of the tremendoussurf. When, after watching others, seeing their little boats tossed likecockle shells upon the sands, and hearing how thoroughly drenched withsalt water many of the people were while landing, I gave it up, andremained on board. 

For five days we lay anchored outside, while stevedores loaded suppliesfrom the "Bertha" on barges towed ashore by the side-wheeler "Sadie. "For hours the wind would blow and the breakers and surf run so high thatnothing could be done; then at sundown, perhaps, the wind would dieaway, and men were put to work unloading again. The calls of thoselifting and tugging, the rattle of pulleys and chains, never werestilled night or day if the water was passably smooth, and we learned tosleep soundly amid all the confusion. 

Next morning the steamer "Cleveland" cast anchor near the "Bertha. "Presently we saw a small boat lowered over the side and two women werehanded down into it, four men following and seating themselves at theoars. The ship on which the women had first sailed had been wrecked onSt. George's Island; from there they were rescued by the revenue cutter"Bear, " transferred to the "Cleveland, " and were now going ashore atNome, their destination. As they passed us we noticed that they satupright in the middle of the lifeboat, the hoods of their cloaks drawnquite over their heads. We were told that one of these women had come tomeet her lover and be married, and we felt like cheering such heroism. 

Next day the bodies of several men were picked up on the beach neartown. They had started for Cape Prince of Wales in a small boat and beenovertaken by disaster. Many were dying of fever on shore, and nurses, doctors and drugs were in great demand. 

Many tales of interest now reached our ears, but not many can here begiven. 

One of the first American children to open his eyes to the light of dayin this bleak and barren place--Nome City--was Little Willie S. Hisparents lived in a poor board shack or house which his father had builtjust back of the golden beach sands. Here the surf, all foam-tipped, spread itself at the rising and falling of the tides, and here theminers toiled day after day washing out the precious gold. 

It was here that Willie's papa, soon after the baby came, sickened anddied. He had worked too long in the wind and rain, and they laid himunder the tundra at the foot of the hill. 

For a time the baby grew. The mother and child were now dependent uponthe community for support, but the burly and generous miners did notallow them to want. Willie was a great pet in the mining camp; the menbeing delighted with a peep of his tiny, round face and pink fingers. 

The little child could have easily had his weight in gold dust, oranything else, had he wanted it. Big, shining nuggets had already beengiven him to cut his teeth upon when the time came, but that time nevercame. 

Willie died one day in his mother's arms, while her hot tears fell likerain upon his face. 

Then they laid him to sleep beside his papa under the tundra, where theshining wheat-gold clung to the moss roots and sparkled as brightly asthe frost and snow which soon covered everything. 

When spring came Willie's mamma found the baby's tiny grave, and putwild flowers and grasses upon it, and there they nodded their prettyheads above the spot where Willie and his papa quietly sleep. 

Passengers for San Francisco were now coming on board with theirluggage. Several men were brought on board on spring beds, being illwith no contagious disease. A box containing the body of a man, who hadshot himself the day before, was placed upon the hurricane deck, lasheddown, and covered with tarpaulins. Strong boxes of gold bullion, withlong, stout ropes and boards attached in case of accident, were stowedaway in as safe a place as could be found. Copies of the first issue ofthe "Nome News" were bought at fifty cents a copy; size, four pagesabout a foot square. Beach sand and pebbles, were handed about in manyfunny receptacles, --pickle jars, tin cans, flour sacks, --any old thingwould do if only we had the pleasure of seeing the golden sand. 

One night about three o'clock the barge brought the last passengers andfreight. The water was smooth, the moon shone brightly, there was nowind, and the captain and his mate gave their orders in quick, sterntones. They were in haste to leave. They had lingered here too longalready. All were soon hustled on board; the "Sadie" and her bargesmoved away; we took a last, long look at Nome as she stretched herselfon the golden sands of the beach under her electric lights; the "Bertha"whistled, stuck her nose into the rollers and steamed away. 

A more majestic old body of water than Behring Sea would be hard tofind; and we remember it with thanksgiving, for we had no storms orrough weather during the eight hundred and fifty miles to Unalaska. 

Right glad was I that we were fortunate in having a pleasant littleparty of eight or ten persons, and our evenings were spent in visiting, spinning yarns, and singing songs, while some hours each day were passedon the hurricane deck. Here we became familiar with the sea phrasescommonly used, and watched the old salts "bracing the mast arms, ""hoisting the jibs, " or "tacking, " and could tell when we had a "crosssea, " a "beam sea, " or a "sou' wester. " As we neared Unalaska on theAleutian Islands, the sea became rough, and we had more wind, but wejoyfully sighted high hills or rocks to the east, and bade good-bye toold Behring. For three and a half days he had behaved well, and neverwill we quietly hear him maligned. 

Unalaska, sweet isle of the sea! How beautiful she looked to our eyeswhich had only seen water for days! Its bold and rocky cliffs, itstowering peaks snow capped; its sequestered and winding valleys, andbright, sparkling waterfalls; its hillsides in all the artistic shadesof red, brown, yellow, green, purple, black and white; its water in allthe tints of blue and azure, reflecting sky that looked

 "As though an angel in his upward flight, Had left his mantle floating in mid-air. "

All, all, greeted the eye of the worn voyager most restfully. 

Clusters of quaint red buildings were soon seen nestling under themountain--that was Dutch Harbor, and a mile farther on we arrived at thedock at Unalaska. We would be here twenty-four hours taking on freshwater, coal, and food, they told us, and we all ran out like sheep froma pen, or school children at intermission. We drank fresh water from thespring under the green hillside; we bought apples and oranges at thestore, and furs of the furrier; we rowed in a skiff and scampered overthe hills to Dutch Harbor; we watched jelly-fish and pink star-fish inthe water; we saw white reindeer apparently as tame as cows browsing onthe slopes; we visited an old Greek church, and were kept from the veryholiest place where only men were allowed to go, retaliating when wecame to the cash box at the door--we dropped nothing in; we climbed thehighest mountain near by, and staked imaginary gold claims afterdrinking in the beauties of the views which encompassed us; we snappedour kodaks repeatedly, and then, having reached the limit of our timeand strength, wended our way back to the steamer now ready to sail. 

Leaving the harbor, we all stayed on deck as long as possible trying tofix the grandeur of the scenery in our minds so it could not slip away, and then Priest Rock was passed, we had turned about eastward, and werein Unimak Pass. Here the wind blew a gale from the west, on account ofwhich we were obliged to go below to our staterooms after watching thesailors lash everything on the hurricane deck well down in case ofstorm. After a few hours we left the Pass, with its precipitous cliffs, its barren and rocky slopes, its cones of extinct volcanoes, its roughand deep water, and headed due southeast for "Frisco. "

Many unpleasant people and things we found on board as we proceeded, fornot all of these had been left at Nome; but with a philosopher'sfortitude we studied to overlook everything disagreeable, and partlysucceeded. That our efforts were not a complete success was due partly, at least, to our early education and large stock of ideality, and wewere really not so much to blame. 

The remainder of our journey was somewhat monotonous, broken only bydrunken brawls at midnight on deck, waking us from sound slumbers; orthe sight of a whale spouting during the day. Sometimes a breeze wouldspring up from the wrong direction, rolling us for a few hours, causingus to prefer a reclining posture instead of an upright one, and givingour complexions a still deeper lemonish cast; sometimes we were wellinclined to feed the fishes in the sea, and did not; but at all times wewere thankful that matters were no worse. 

Then, after many days out from Unalaska we began to look for land. Seagulls and goonies had followed in the wake of our ship, and restedthemselves each day aloft in the rigging. Sails were now and then seenin the distance, like the spreading white wings of enormous swansgliding quietly over the bosom of the deep, and we realized that we werenearing land. In the darkness one night there came to us a little whiteboat containing three men, --one was a pilot to guide us safely throughthe beautiful Golden Gate; the light on Point Bonita was sighted--wewere almost home. 

We were now six weeks out from Dawson and twenty-one days from Nome; wehad no storms, accidents or deaths on board, and carried five hundredpassengers, as well as three million dollars in gold. I had been awayfrom home four months without a day's illness, and during my tripthrough Alaska had traveled seventy-five hundred miles, nearly one-halfof this distance alone. 

[Illustration: UNALASKA. ]

CHAPTER VII. 

GOING TO NOME. 

One beautiful day in the spring of 1900 I sailed again for Alaska--thistime for Nome from San Francisco. An English family consisting of themother, one son and a daughter were to accompany me, and we had spentweeks in making our preparations. We were taking supplies of clothing, food, tents and bedding sufficient to last until some of our numerousplans of work after our arrival brought in returns. My hope was to meetmy father there, for he had written that he thought he should go to thenew gold fields, where he could do beach mining. 

I was not above doing any honest work, and felt confident that I couldmake my way if I could gain an entrance into that country. The Englishpeople were all workers, and I had known them for ten years or more. 

Our steamer was the good ship "St. Paul, " belonging to the AlaskaCommercial Company, and was advertised to sail on May twenty-fifth. WhenI laughingly called the attention of one of the owners of the ship tothe fact that that date fell upon Friday, and many persons objected tosailing upon that day, he postponed the starting of the "St. Paul" toMay twenty-sixth, and we left the dock on Saturday afternoon amid thecheers and hand-waving of thousands of people who had come to see thebig boat off for Nome. 

The steamer was well fitted out, spick and span in fresh carpets andpaint, and crowded to the utmost capacity for comfort. Every stateroomwas full; each seat at the tables occupied. Not a foot of space above orbelow decks was left unused, but provision was made for all, and theship was well manned. 

I was now much gratified to learn that there were many on board whom Ihad met before; that the steward, stewardess and several of the waitershad been on duty on the steamer "Bertha" during my trip out from Alaskathe fall before, while I was upon speaking terms with a dozen or more ofthe passengers with whom I had traveled from the same place. Ofpassengers we had, all told, four hundred and eighty-seven. Of thesethirty-five were women. There was only one child on board, and that wasthe little black-eyed girl with her Eskimo mother and white father fromGolovin Bay whom I had seen at St. Michael some months before, and whowas now going back to her northern home. She wore a sailor suit of navyblue serge, trimmed with white braid, and was as coy and cunning asever, not speaking often to strangers, but laughing and running away toher mother when addressed. 

From the day we sailed from San Francisco until we reached Nome I missedno meals in the dining salon, a pace which my English friends and otherscould not follow, for they were uncomfortably ill in the region of theirdigestive apparatus for several days. I slept for hours each day andthoroughly enjoyed the trip. 

During the nine days' sail from San Francisco to Unalaska, a distance oftwo thousand three hundred and sixty-eight miles, I studied well thepassengers. We had preachers on board, as well as doctors, lawyers, merchants and miners, and there were women going to Nome to start eatinghouses, hotels and mercantile shops. There were several Swedishmissionaries; one, a zealous young woman from San Francisco, going tothe Swedish Mission at Golovin Bay. 

This young person was pretty and pleasant, and I was glad to make heracquaintance as well as that of three other women speaking the sametongue and occupying the next stateroom to mine. The last named weregoing to start a restaurant in Nome. As they were sociable, jolly, andgood sailors for the most part, I enjoyed their society. They had alllived in San Francisco for years, and though not related to each other, were firm friends of long standing and were uniting their littlefortunes in the hope of making greater ones. 

The young missionary was a friend to the other three, and I found nobetter or more congenial companions on board the ship than these fourhonest, hard-working women, so full of hope, courage and good sense aswell as Christianity. Little did I then think that these people, placedby a seeming chance in an adjoining stateroom, were to be myfellow-workers and true friends, not only for the coming months in thatArctic land to which we were going, but, as the sequel will show, perhaps for years to come. 

Not many days had passed when we found that we had on board what fewsteamers can boast of, and that was an orchestra of professionalmusicians among the waiters. These were men going, with all the others, to seek their fortunes in the new gold fields, working their passage aswaiters on the ship to Nome, where they intended to leave it. Threeevenings in the week these musicians, with the help of several singerson board, gave concerts in the dining salon, which, though impromptu, were very enjoyable. 

A sweet and trained singer was the English girl of our company, and shesang many times, accompanied by the stringed instruments of themusicians, much to the delight of the assembled passengers. When shesang, one evening, in her clear sympathetic voice the selection, "Oh, Where Is My Wandering Boy Tonight, " there was not a dry eye in the room, and the mind of many a man went back to his old home and praying motherin some far distant state, making him resolve to write oftener to herthat she might be comforted with a knowledge of his whereabouts andwelfare. These evenings were sometimes varied by recitations from anelocutionist on board; and a practised clog dancer excited the risiblesof the company to the extent that they usually shouted with laughter athis exhibition of flying heels. 

Day after day passed. Those who were continually seasick had diversionenough. It was useless for us to tell them a pathetic tale of some one, who, at some time, had been more ill than they, because they would notbelieve a word of it, and it was equally useless to recommend anantidote for mal de mer such as theirs. "No one was ever so ill before, "they said. They knew they should die and be buried at sea, and hopedthey would if that would put an end to their sufferings. We tried atlast to give them comfort by recommending out of former experiencesship's biscuit, dry toast and pop-corn as remedies, but only receivedblack looks as our reward. We then concluded that a diet of tea, coffeeand soup was exactly such a one as the fishes would recommend could theyspeak, these favorite and much used liquids keeping up a continual"swishing" in one's interior regions, and causing one to truthfullyspeak of the same as "infernal" instead of internal. But they were alltree physical as well as free moral agents and decided these things forthemselves. 

At last we entered the Japan current and the weather was warmer andmore enjoyable. On Monday, June fourth, we saw from the deck a fewdrifting logs and a quantity of seaweed, and these, with the presence ofgulls and goonies flying overhead, convinced us that we were nearingland. 

We were not mistaken. After eating an excellent six o'clock dinner wewent above to find ourselves between high, rocky cliffs, which loomed upinto mountains not far distant, and we knew we were again at theAleutian Islands and in the rough waters of Unimak Pass. As we drewnearer and entered the harbor so well land-locked, the sun dipped lowinto yellow-red western waters, thereby casting long shadows aslant ourpathway so delicately shaded in greens. 

The little hamlet of Dutch Harbor nestled cosily at the foot of themountains which bordered the bay, and here numbers of ships lay anchoredat rest. Passing along easily beyond another high mountain, we were soonat the dock of Unalaska, beside other great ships in port. Both groupsof craft were evidently waiting for the ice to clear from Behring Seabefore proceeding on their way northward, and we counted sixteen shipsof different kinds and sizes, the majority of them large steamers. Allwere loaded with passengers and freight for Nome. Scout boats hadalready been sent out to investigate and find, if possible, a passagethrough the ice fields, and the return of these scouts with good newswas anxiously watched and waited for, as the most desired thing at thattime was a speedy and safe landing on the supposedly golden beach sandsof Nome. 

At Unalaska we spent four days taking on fresh water and coal, duringwhich time passengers visited back and forth from the waiting steamers, many persons having friends on other boats and each having a curiosityto see if they were faring as well or ill as he, comparing notes as tothe expense of traveling with the different companies, etc. Passengerson the "St. Paul" agreed that they had "no kick comin', " which was oneof the commonest slang phrases, intended to mean that they had no faultto find with the Alaska Commercial Company and their steamer "St. Paul. "All were well cared for and satisfied, as well they might be, with theservice of the ship's men. 

Leaving Unalaska the sun shone clear and cold upon the mountains wherein places the sides looked black from the late fires started in the deeptundra by miscreants. The tops of the mountains were covered with snow. Down deep gorges dashed mountain waters of melting snow and ice, hurrying to leap off gullied and rocky cliffs into the sea. Theirprogress was never impeded. No tree nor shrub obstructed the way withgnarled old trunks, twisted roots, or low hanging branches, for nonegrow in Unalaska, and the bold dignity and grandeur of the mountains isnever diminished by these lesser objects. 

As our ship sailed out into Behring Sea we were closely followed by thesteamer "George W. Elder, " whose master, an old friend of our captain, had decided to follow in our wake, he being less familiar than thelatter with Alaskan waters, and having confidence in the ability of hisfriend to successfully pilot both ships to Cape Nome. 

[Illustration: STEAMSHIP ST. PAUL. ]

CHAPTER VIII. 

FRESH DANGER. 

At this plan all the passengers appeared pleased. We were now enteringupon the most dangerous part of our voyage. No one knew what was beforeus. If our ship should receive serious damage from the ice floes orbergs with which we were almost sure to come in contact, it would bewell if we were accompanied by a sister ship which could renderassistance. If she were in trouble and we unharmed, we could lend ahelping hand to her; and so none murmured at the unique arrangement. 

Nothing, however, was seen of the much dreaded ice until about noon onSunday, June tenth. The air had been steadily growing colder so thatwoolen clothing and fur wraps were in demand. Men thrust their handsinto their pockets, or drew on gloves while they stamped their feet upondeck to keep themselves warm in the open air. Soon to our right lay agreat semi-circular field of ice, in places piled high, looking cold, jagged and dangerous. In the distance those having field-glasses saw twoclumsy, slow-moving objects which they could easily distinguish as polarbears on floating cakes of ice. 

By the latter we were soon surrounded, and were obliged, slowly andcautiously, to pick our way through towards the narrowest spot, or wherethe nearest open water could be seen beyond. Floating ice now lay allaround us, appearing only a few feet above the water; below it the bergsextended many times that distance. Sometimes they were small and lookedharmless enough; but many were large, massive, and full of death-dealingpower if urged against the sides of a ship by the wind or struckaccidentally. Carefully we picked our way along, watched as we were byevery soul aboard the "Elder" following, until we had successfully madeour way through the ice pack and glided out into the blue waters beyond. Then came a great shout from the throats of spectators on both ships, and praises for the master and his crew who were doing such good workwere loudly sung. 

Immediately our manoeuvres were repeated by the "Elder, " and we watchedher with interest equal to their own; then as she passed the dangerpoint and swung safely through the ice bergs and out, both ships, likefresh, uncaged birds, sped lightly and swiftly over the water northward. 

In a few hours we were awakened from afternoon naps by the ringing ofthe ship's bell and found ourselves again surrounded by floating bergs. A man in the bow was taking soundings with lead and line, calling outevery few seconds. "No bottom! No bottom!" and then hauling in the leadagain as the ship crept carefully along. From submerged floes there wasnow the greatest danger, but we gradually drew away from all floatingice and sailed safely away as before. 

Each Sunday on board the "St. Paul" had been marked by some religiousservice conducted by one of the preachers, while an improvised quartetof voices led the singing. June tenth service had been held in theforenoon, when a short sermon had followed the singing of a few familiarold hymns by the assembled passengers. Now in the early evening, while Isat with a few friends in the dining salon rehearsing hymns for thecoming service, suddenly the ship's bell rang out upon the still nightair. Instantly there came a jar, a quiver, and all rushed out upon deckto see what had happened. We had been rudely jostled by an unseen icefloe while the eyes of the pilot had been occupied by the ones visible. Several times this happened. We were in the midst of a sea of ice floes. There was no visible egress ahead; we must back out, if possible, as wehad come. 

Soon our steamer was stopped for the night, and religious services werebegun in the dining salon. About one hundred persons were present. Ourquartet sang five or six selections, "Rock of Ages" and "Throw Out theLife-line" among others. The preacher offered prayer, read Scripturepromises, and spoke feelingly for twenty minutes. He talked of our livesbeing only short spans, the length of which depends upon the will ofGod; and it is the duty of each soul, he said, to be prepared to meetits Maker. 

It was a solemn moment for all. Outside the ice drifted slowly about, thick fog settled over us, the ship's whistle sounded, and night cameon. The loneliness increased. 

When the speaker had closed his remarks he asked that the quartet sing"Nearer My God to Thee, " and we sang it. Sweet and firm was the voice ofthe English girl now, and when, with uplifted arm and softly spokenbenediction, the minister dismissed us, it was to go upon deck feelingstronger and much comforted. 

There was yet no breath of wind stirring. For this we thanked a kindProvidence, for, had the wind risen, our lives would have been injeopardy indeed. In that case the massive ice cakes would have beenblown swiftly and heavily about to crush all ships like egg-shells andsend them to the bottom of the sea. 

For breakfast we ate yellow corn-bread and bacon with a relish such asit never gave at home, and even those who had been seasick for days werebeginning to "get away" with their rations. At eight in the morning theanchor with its rattling chain was dropped and we lay in an open spot. An hour later there was no perceptible motion of the ship, the sea wassmooth as a carpet, and our tired captain had gone to bed. Forforty-eight hours he had not slept, nor scarcely left the bridge, andthe rest was badly needed. 

Two days we lay anchored in a dead calm, waiting for the passing ice toopen a way for us through to Nome. Three ships lay near us, as well astwo larger ones out farther in the ice-fields; but the fog hung grey andpersistent over our heads and we could do nothing but wait. Anotherconcert was given by the musicians, and as the steamer lay gentlyrocking upon the waters of the great sea, through the open front windowsthere floated out to our sister ship the sweet and pleasing strains ofthe violins and mandolins. 

Were they telling in lively allegretto movements of our safe landing ongolden shores, and of our successful achievements followed by a safe andhappy return to home and loved ones? Or were the adagios mournfullypredicting perils, coming disaster and death? Who could tell? Formyself, I felt that whatever came to me would be in accordance with thewill and wish of a Higher Power, and it would be all right in any case. My choice was, of course, from the human standpoint, for life, happinessand success in the pursuit of gold; but this with me was not anobstinate nor rebellious sentiment. Should all these good things bedenied me, I could say, it is well. I felt satisfied that the way for mygoing to Alaska had been wonderfully opened by an Unseen Influence whichI had been taught from earliest childhood to recognize, and thisbelief, which was a firm and abiding one, held me calm and contented. Night after night I slept in my berth as soundly as though at home in mybed, and not even the sudden jolt and quiver of the icebergs comingoften into collision with the ship caused me to waken. 

The night of June twelfth, about eleven o'clock, just after havingretired, but being still awake, I heard a sudden and piercing scream. The English madam with me, being still dressed, rushed upon deck to findout the cause of the disturbance. Rushing towards her with pale andfrightened face was her daughter who had been lunching in the diningsalon. An iceberg of immense proportions and greater height than usualhad struck the ship with a crash, coming up suddenly and mostunexpectedly from underneath the fog bank so that the watchful pilot wastaken unawares. The English girl said the berg, when alongside the ship, reached the height of the upper deck and appeared like a huge mountainof ice from her place at the window. It was consternation at the sightof what was apparently sure and speedy destruction which had caused thewoman's scream. 

Investigation was immediately made of the ship's plates, which, thoughconsiderably dented by the ice, were still, thanks to a kind Providence, intact; and again I settled myself for the night and slept. 

Next day men were restless. They wanted to be on their way to Nome. Itwas not for this that they had paid a large price for their tickets andassurances that they would arrive early at Nome; and they agreed thatthere was no more danger in steaming ahead than in lying anchored withthe ice bumping into us and liable to break through the ship's sides atany moment. 

"Will you sign a petition to the captain asking that he proceed on hisway to Nome without further delay?" asked a friend of me while the "St. Paul" was anchored and the ice still drifting around us. 

"They are circulating such a petition, and have a good many signers, orthose who are willing to sign it, and I wanted to know how you feelabout it, " said my friend. 

"What is the matter with the captain? Did they not announce theirconfidence in him by coming aboard this steamer, and has he doneanything to cause them to lose faith in his ability to pilot them safelythrough? Has he not brought them on their voyage thus far withoutaccident?" I asked. 

"Oh, yes, certainly. "

"Then I, for one, shall abide by the captain's judgment, and remainanchored here so long as he sees fit to order it. You can say to theothers that I will sign no petition, " said I. 

Whether my decision and firmness in the matter had any weight withothers, I know not; but the petition was dropped, and the captainprobably never knew that such a thing had been proposed. 

The morning of June thirteenth the sun shone out clear and bright. Greatfields of ice surrounded us, and many other ships were also hemmed in atdifferent places. The "Elder" lay contentedly beside us. It was not socold when the fog had lifted, and the clearer atmosphere made itpossible to see for many miles over the berg-strewn waters. Men werewalking restlessly about on deck trying to keep their impatience downand their hands and feet warm. They feared that other ships withhundreds of passengers would land at Nome before they could, and thatwould mean loss, perhaps in many ways, to them. We were less than twohundred miles from Nome and could easily make the run in a day ifallowed a free sea. 

By this time the face of the steward began to show anxiety and hewatched the horizon with interest. Serving, as he did, nearly fifteenhundred meals daily, he feared a shortage of supplies if the ship wasdelayed many days longer. Ten sacks of flour, and fifteen hundred poundsof meat were used daily, and other things in proportion. For breakfastone day ninety dozen eggs were fed to the people. 

High overhead the stars and stripes were now hoisted to announce our joyat being delivered from so many dangers, and at leading the way forothers to follow. No one could pass us, and we would, after all, beamong the first, if not the very first, to reach Nome. 

The captain looked jaded and worn, but happy and relieved, being ablenow to get some of the much-needed rest so long denied him when in theice fields. When congratulated by the passengers upon his skill, for bythis time they had entirely forgotten their discontent of the previousdays and were willing to give him and his crew due praise, he smiled andthanked them kindly, then went away to rest. 

Early next morning anchor was dropped at Nome. At last we had reachedour destination. We had traveled thirty-one hundred and thirty-ninemiles in nineteen days and could have done it in much shorter time hadit not been for the ice. Several small ships lay at anchor before us, but we were immediately followed by many large steamers bringingthousands of people to Nome. The weather was splendid. Many of thepassengers were in such haste to reach shore than they left withoutbreakfast; but we waited until ten in the morning before boarding the"lighter, " and I donned a dress suitable to the occasion. This was cutshort, and was worn with high, stout boots, leggings, warm coat, cap andveil, with extra wraps for the trip of two miles to shore. 

Certainly we now presented a very unique spectacle. We were really asort of Noah's Ark collection, with the roof of the Ark omitted. Womenin abbreviated skirts, long rubber boots, golf capes, caps and sweaters;men covered in long "raglans, " fur coats, "jumpers, " or whateverhappened to be at hand; and all rushing pell-mell in the direction ofthe lighter, by means of which they hoped to land on the golden beach ofNome. Baggage there was in stacks. There were boxes, grips, trunks, armysacks; everything but babies, bird cages and band wagons. Passage for anautomobile had been engaged in San Francisco, but at the last moment thelady accompanying the big machine was suddenly indisposed and obliged toallow the "St. Paul" to sail without her. 

The sea was now quite rough. The lighter was brought close alongside. The rope ladder was thrown over the side of the ship with its lower enddangling upon the lighter's deck, and we were told we could now goashore. 

This was the moment for which we had longed, and all were ready, likeCassibianca, minus the fire and peanuts. The fat widow of the companytied her bonnet more tightly under her chin, clutched at her pudgyskirts, and grasping the deck rail, placed her foot upon the rope ladderto descend. 

"Don't look down!" shouted some one to her, fearing she might grow dizzyif she did so. 

"Don't hurry; take your time!" called out another. 

"Keep cool and you're all right!" instructed another, at which time thewidow, with fluttering veil, pale face and eyes starting from theirsockets with fright reached the lowest round of the ladder and steppedto the deck of the lighter. Her bonnet was awry, the belt of her dresshad become unfastened, while her skirts were twisted around her in someunaccountable way and her teeth chattering; but she only drew a longsigh as she sank in a limp heap upon an army sack marked with big blackletters, and said gaspingly: "This is terrible!" Others followed herexample. Some protested they would rather stay on the ship or go back toSan Francisco than scramble down that "beastly rope ladder" swaying asit did back and forth with every motion of the ship to which it wasattached. For myself, I had never posed as especially courageous, andwondered how I should get on. But I said nothing. From watching theothers I had learned that to "make haste slowly" was a good method tofollow in the present case, as a misstep without a firm hand grip uponthe sides of the ladder while descending would be likely to send onewithout warning into the yard wide gulf of boiling waters between theship's side and the lighter, as the barge was literally dancingattendance upon the vessel in the rough sea. 

Finally everything was ready. All passengers had left the ship. Thelighter was crowded to the last inch of space; baggage and freight alongthe sides, and passengers in the middle, sitting wherever they couldfind a box or bag upon which to sit. A tug boat made fast to thelighter--we said good-bye to the "St. Paul" and moved away. 

"We are bidding good-bye to all comforts now!" exclaimed an old Nomeitedubiously, "for we won't find any on shore; leastwise not unless it hasimproved more in the last ten months than I think it has. It was a toughplace enough last summer, and that's no josh either!" looking around himat the ladies of the party and evidently wondering what they would thinkof the celebrated mining town. 

Many by this time looked sober, but it was not a hard camp that theyfeared. They had expected to find a typical camp with all the attendantevils usual in such a place, and now they were almost there. In factthey looked out over the heaps of baggage towards shore at the long fineof white tents, buildings of every description from a board shack to ahotel or large store, and it seemed good in their eyes--very good. Forsome unseen reason, as the barge, following as it did at the end of thelong line from the tug, rode first upon the top of a big breaker andthen below in the trough, there was a decided longing on the part ofsome to be on land. It did not much matter where it was--Europe, Asia, Africa or "any old place"; but as for this "confounded, zig-zaggin', heavin' old hulk which is tryin' its best to take us to Honolulusideways--I want no more of it!" growled one man. 

"Give me Nome or I die!" gasped another. 

"No more big water in mine for two years, and mebbe by that time theywill have air ships to fly in, " muttered a little man as he lay on hisback among a pile of bags and gulped at something in his throat he wastrying to keep down. 

So the barge bobbed up and down among the breakers, riding to the crestof a wave with a gliding, graceful motion, only to reach out beyond it, and then, as the waters underneath receded, dropping heavily with a thudand a splash, making one feel that he was being dealt with mostunceremoniously. 

The same thing was again and again repeated, until we rode as close tothe shore as the tug could take us, then the line was cut, a rope wasthrown us from shore, and with a steam windlass or other contrivance, wewere hauled upon the sands. 

Then a gangplank was speedily pushed out over the intervening wateryspace which the passengers took their turns in crossing until all stoodupon the beach; a few, to be sure, with wet feet, damp clothing andsoggy tempers if some vicious, big breaker in parting had dashed itswhite foam-tipped waters over their heads, but all glad and thankful toarrive in Nome at last. 

CHAPTER IX. 

NOME. 

The man who had predicted that we would find no comforts in Nome provedhimself a true prophet. There were none. Crowded, dirty, disorderly, full of saloons and gambling houses, with a few fourth-class restaurantsand one or two mediocre hotels, we found the new mining camp a typicalone in every respect. Prices were sky high. One even paid for a drink ofwater. Having our newly found Alaska appetites with us, we at once, uponlanding, made our way to an eating house, the best to be found. 

Here a cup of poor tea, a plate of thin soup and questionable meat stewwith bread were served us upon nicked china, soiled table linen and withblackened steel knives and forks, for the enormous sum of one dollar ahead; which so dumbfounded us that we paid it without a murmur, backedout the door and blankly gazed into each other's faces. 

"Such prices will ruin us!" gasped the madam. 

"That table linen! Ugh!" shuddered the young man. 

"Fifteen cents in California for such a meal!" growled the English girlin her matter-of-fact way, and with wide distended eyes; while I foundsuch amusement in watching the three faces before me that I barelyfound breath to remind them of the two tons of nice things in their ownpacking cases at the landing. 

"If only they are soon landed, " groaned madam, and we set off at ourbest gait to find the cases. 

But we did not succeed. The freight was being unloaded from the ship, wewere told, as rapidly as it was possible to handle it, but one lighterand small tug boat in a very rough sea, unloading a ship two miles offthe beach, must have time; and we waited. Only two or three lighterswere to be had at Nome. Other large steamers were being unloaded, andhundreds of people were hourly being landed upon the beach. There was noshelter for them anywhere, every building was full, and confusion wasbadly confounded. To make matters worse it began to rain. If we couldonly find our freight and get our tents, beds, supplies, etc. , we wouldbe all right, but it would be impossible that day we found, after makingrepeated excursions through the freight house and numberless inquiriesat the office. 

Something must be done, but what? I now remembered some Dawsonacquaintances in town made the fall before while coming down the YukonRiver with my brother. To one family of these I made my way. They werein the grocery and bakery business on a prominent corner on First streetand their signboard caught my eye. 

Blessings on the heads of kind Mr. And Mrs. M. Of Nome City! They weredelighted to see me. They lived back of the store in one room, whichcontained their bed, stove, cupboard, baby-organ, table, chairs andtrunks; but they also owned a one-room shack next door, which was vacantfor a few days, being already rented to a dentist who would make somerepairs before taking possession. I could bring my friends and baggageinto this without charge, if I wished, until we secured our freight, Mrs. M. Said kindly, and I pressed her hand in real gratitude with manythanks. 

"I am almost ashamed to show you the room, " said the kind little woman, as she unlocked the door of the shack and stepped inside, "but it isbetter than no shelter in this rain, and you can have a fire in thestove, " pointing to a small and rusty coal heater in one corner. "I wishI had some blankets or fur robes to lend you, but everything I have isin use. You are welcome to bring in as many friends as you like if theywill share the poor place with you; and you are quite safe here, too, for you see the barracks are just opposite, " pointing across the muddylittle alley down which a few boards had been laid for a sidewalk; "andthe soldiers are here to keep order, though they do sometimes find itrather a hard job. "

Then I thanked the little woman again most heartily, and, as I took fromher hands the door-key and stepped outside into the rain to bring mywaiting friends and baggage from the freight house, I offered a littleprayer of thanks to our good Father, and hurried away. 

[Illustration: NOME. ]

At the steamer's landing all was hurly-burly and noise. It was now latein the afternoon, still raining at intervals, and muddy under foot, though the weather was not cold. Finding my English friends I told themof Mrs. M. 's kindness and offer of her room, which they were wellpleased to accept with me, and we gathered up our luggage and startedfor the place. Passing through the freight house on our way to thestreet, madam said, pointing to the figures of two woman huddled in acorner:

"See! Judge R. From the St. Paul has not found a room yet, and Mrs. R. And her friend, the nurse, are sitting there, waiting for the judge toreturn! His wife is nearly sick, and they have no idea where they canget a room. Judge R. Has been looking hours for one without success, "she said, in a sympathetic tone. 

"Let us speak to them, " said I, going over to where the ladies sat. 

Hearing their story, and seeing for myself that both women were cold, hungry and disheartened, I decided on the spot to share Mrs. M. 'shospitality with them; made the proposal, which they very thankfullyaccepted, and we trailed off up the street laden with luggage. 

Then madam's son was found, informed of the situation, asked to bringJudge R. And a few loaves of bread from the shop, along with theremaining luggage, to our new camping place in the little board shacknear the barracks. 

Seeing us arrive, and that the three elderly ladies looked worn andtravel-stained, Mrs. M. Urged us to come into her room and take tea andcrackers which she had already placed upon the table. This invitationthe older ladies gladly accepted, while the English girl and myselflooked after our new lodgings. 

Here now was a state of things indeed! The entire stock of luggage forseven grown persons was soon deposited in the middle of the floor. Theroom of which the shack consisted was about eight by ten feet square, set directly upon the ground, from which the water oozed at every stepof the foot. Two small windows, a front and back door, with the smallstove--that was all. These were our accommodations for the night, andperhaps several nights and days. 

Then we two set to work with a will. We swept the floor, we gatheredsticks for a fire, we threw boards down outside the door upon which towalk instead of in the mud, a pail of water was brought from a hydrantafter paying twenty-five cents for it, and a box was converted into atable. Luggage was sorted, lunch baskets were ransacked, while tin cups, coffee pot, knives, forks and spoons were found, with a fresh whitecloth upon which to spread the food. 

When Judge R. Finally appeared, it was supper time. He carried a tinfry-pan under one arm, a bag containing one dozen eggs, and a few slicesof ham on a paper plate, for which articles he had paid the goodly sumof one dollar and seventy-five cents. 

Waving the fry-pan above his old grey head, the jolly judge shouted:"See, the conquering hero comes! Oh, but I'm hungry! Say, how in theworld did you get this place? I hunted four mortal hours and failed tofind a shack, room, or tent for the night. Four thousand people landedhere today, and still they come. Jerusalem crickets! What a crowd!Everybody is in from Dan to Beersheba! We will have fifteen thousandpeople here soon if they don't stop coming, and no shelter for 'em!"Then changing his tone and glancing toward his wife:

"And how is my dear little wifey by this time?" tenderly patting Mrs. R. 's white hand, which belonged to a woman tipping the beam at twohundred. 

"Aren't you glad we came? I am. " Then rattling on without giving hiswife a chance to speak, for her eyes had filled with tears:

"I think I've got a 'case' already. Claim number four on D. Creek jumpedlast winter while owner was away--jumper won't leave--talked with ownertoday--think I'll get the job, " said the hopeful old judge, sitting onan empty cracker box and eating bread and cheese from his fingers. 

"Eat your supper, dear, " to his wife, who was taking nothing, "and youshall have a bed tonight--the best in Nome City. See! There it is now, "pointing to a big roll of dark brown canvas done up with a few varnishedsticks. 

"A folding cot--new patent--good and strong. (It'll need to be strong tohold you up, won't it, dearie?) Now, please take your tea like a goodgirl, to brace up your courage. Or would you like a drop of sherry?"

To all this Mrs. R. Shook her head, but she did not speak, neither didshe attempt to eat, for there was a big lump in her throat whichprevented. 

The rest of our party enjoyed the supper. Some sat on boxes, othersstood up, but we ate ham and eggs, bread, butter and cheese, tea andcrackers, pickles, jellies and jams, as being the greatest "comforts" wecould find in the camp, and we made them speedily disappear. 

At last the supper things were cleared away, and remaining food repackedin the baskets. The patent cot was unrolled, set up and made ready forMrs. R. , who was the only one favored with a bed. The others finallyfaced the proposition and prepared, as best they could, their chosenfloor spaces for their beds. 

All slept in their clothing, for we had no bedding and the night wascold. The two men were banished to the outer air, where together theysmoked and talked of affairs of the day, while we women unbuttoned ourshoes, took out a few hairpins, cold-creamed our sunburned faces, andthen, between jokes, stories and giggling, we settled ourselves, withmuch difficulty and hard snuggling, among our bags, raincoats, steamerrugs and wraps on the rough board floor for the night. 

Coming in later, the judge spread his borrowed fur robe upon the floorbeside his wife's cot, covered himself with one-half of the same, chuckling as he did so. 

"I'm glad my bones are well cushioned with fat, and that I'm old andtough and like this sort of thing. I say, wife, isn't it jolly?" And theportly and sunny old judge dropped off to sleep to keep me awake most ofthe night by his snoring. 

If I slept little that night I did not waste my time. My brain was busyforming plans of action. It was not wise to have only one plan, for thatone might fail. Better to have several, and some one of these wouldprobably succeed. I felt a good deal of anxiety to know whether myfather or brother had or would come to Nome. If either or both of themcame I would have no further difficulty because I would work for andwith them, but if they did not come what was I to do?

I had little money. I would not go home. I would work. I was a goodcook, though I had never done such work except for our own home folks. Iknew that cooking was the kind of service most in demand in this countryfrom women, for my travels in Alaska the year before had taught methat. I could teach music, and I could paint passably in water colorsand oils; in fact, I had been a teacher of all three, but in Alaskathese luxuries were not in demand. I could not expect to do anything inthese directions, for men and women had come to Nome for gold, expectedto get lots of it, and that quickly. They had no time for Beethoven'ssonatas or water color drawings. 

It was now an urgent question of food, shelter and work with all, andthe man or woman who could the quickest devise ways and means, the onewho saw the needs of the time and place and was able to supply thoseneeds, was the one who could make the most money. Of course, being awoman, I was unable to do beach mining as could a man, and as many menexpected to do. Those who brought large outfits and plenty of money withthem were immediately obliged to hire help, but it was generally a man'shelp, like carpenter work, hauling and handling supplies or machinery, making gold washers and sluice boxes, or digging out the gold in thecreeks. None of these could I do. On the steamer all these things hadbeen well talked over among ourselves, for others besides myself werewondering which way they should turn when they found themselves in Nome. 

As to there being any disgrace connected with work of any sort--it neverentered my head. From a child I had been taught that work was honorable, and especially for a woman housework and cooking were respectable andhealthy service. So I had no pride whatever in the matter; it was only aquestion of finding the work, and I did not doubt my ability to find itsomewhere. 

On the voyage from San Francisco I had thought well of the three Swedishwomen, and believed they would succeed in their proposed plan ofrestaurant work. I said to myself that if I were obliged to seek work Ishould like to be with them if possible; or, at least, with some of the"lucky Swedes, " as the rich Anvil Creek mine owners were usuallydesignated. These miners all hired cooks for their camps, as they keptlarge numbers of men at work day and night on the Anvil Creek claims, the season being so short for placer mining in this country. Anvil Creekwas only four miles away and the "Star Restaurant, " as my friends hadalready named their proposed eating-house, would be headquarters for allthe Scandinavians on Anvil and the entire district. For this reason, andbecause the three had so many acquaintances who would bring thempatronage, and because their pleasant faces and agreeable manners alwaysmade friends for them, I felt sure that they would be able to give mework if they chose and I so desired. Then, too, there were the severalDawson families of my acquaintance here, and I would find them; possiblysome of them might give me work if I asked them. 

However, the first move to be made was to find our freight and baggage, and a spot upon which to pitch our tents, and the sooner that was donethe better, as the test and cleanest camping places were fast beingappropriated by the newcomers hourly landing. It was not easy to find aclean, dry spot for a tent, as I had found the day before that theblack, soggy soil was hardly free from frost a foot down, and this madeit everywhere marshy, as the water could not keep down nor run off whereit was level. Some one on the steamer who had been in Nome before hadadvised us to pitch our tents on the "Sandspit" at the mouth of SnakeRiver, as that was the cleanest, driest and most healthful spot nearfresh water that we could find; and my mind was made up that it was tothe Sandspit I would go. Many had been the warnings from friends beforeleaving home about drinking impure water, getting typhoid fever andother deadly diseases, and without having any particular fear as tothese things I still earnestly desired a clean and healthful campingplace. 

This, then, was the way I planned during most of the first night afterlanding at Nome. If I slept it was towards morning, when I had becomeaccustomed to the regular and stentorian snores of the old judge; orwhen, for a few moments, after turning in his sleep, his snorts andwheezes had not yet reached their loudest pitch; and when my wishes hadshaped themselves so distinctly into plans for work that I felt relievedand full of confidence, and so slept a little. 

[Illustration: LIFE AT NOME. ]

Next day I looked for my father. At the landing, on the streets, in thestores, at all times I was on the lookout, though it was a difficultmatter to find any one in a crowd such as that in Nome. I saw severalacquaintances from Dawson the year before, and people from differentsteamers that I knew, but not my father. At nine o'clock next morningthree of us started out to find the Sandspit, with, if possible, a goodcamping spot to which we could take our freight as soon as it waslanded, and part of our number was detailed to stay at the landing whilewe investigated. Down through the principal thoroughfare we pushed ourway, now on plank sidewalk, now in the middle of the street if the walkswere too crowded; but going to the west end of town till we came toSnake River Bridge, where we crossed to the Sandspit. At the toll-gatewe easily passed, as all women were allowed to go over free, men onlybeing charged ten cents toll. Here we quickly found a clean, dry placeon the river bank a hundred feet below the bridge and two hundred feetfrom the ocean, which we chose for our tents. Now arose the question, would any one have any objection to our pitching our tents temporarily?Seeing some men striking camp near by we asked them. They told us thatwe could get permission, they thought, from an old captain near by on astranded boat, now being used as an eating-house, and to him we went. Hewas not in. 

Going back to the Sandspit, it was decided that I should remain uponthe spot, while my companions went back to the landing. I was to remainthere till some of them came back. This I did, sitting on a box in thesunshine with my kodak, umbrella and lunch basket beside me for hours. When madam returned, saying their search for their freight was stillunavailing, I left her in my place and again called upon the captain. 

Calling the third time at his boat, I found him and secured his readypermission to temporarily pitch our tents upon the sands, for he was anAlderman with adjoining "town lots, " he told us. 

By six o'clock that afternoon a part of madam's baggage and freight wasfound, hauled by dog-team through town to the Sandspit and depositedupon the ground. Then we bestirred ourselves to get a tent up in whichwe could sleep, as I, for one, was determined not to be kept awake bythe judge's snores another night if I had to work till morning. Theothers shared my feelings, and we worked like beavers till midnight. Bythat time a small tent had been put up, boxes of bedding unpacked, aswell as cooking utensils, oil-stoves and foods, so that we could begincooking. 

At the continuous daylight we were much pleased. Coming gradually intoit, as we had done on the steamer, we were prepared for it, but theadvantage of a continuous day to a busy, hustling camp like this one, had not presented itself to us until we ourselves attempted to work halfthe night; then we realized it fully. At nine in the evening abeautiful twilight enveloped all, restful to nerves and eyes, but stilllight enough to read by. 

At ten o'clock it was lighter, and upon the placid waters of SnakeRiver, only fifteen feet away, lay quiet shadows cast from the oppositeside, clearly and beautifully reflected. A few small steamers layfurther down stream near the river's mouth, row boats were tied alongthe edge of the water, and on the Sandspit below us was a camp ofEskimos, their tiny canoes and larger skin boats being hauled upon shorebeside them for safety. At midnight the sun was almost shining, the airwas salt, fresh and clear, while the sky seemed to hang low and lovinglyabove our heads. 

After eating a midnight lunch of our own getting of bread and butterwith hot tea, we deposited ourselves, still dressed, upon the tops ofmadam's big packing cases, from which had been taken pillows andblankets, and slept soundly till morning, notwithstanding the fact thatthe hammers of hundreds of carpenters were busy around us all night. 

Next morning all felt fresh and invigorated. The sun shone brightly. Inthe roadstead two miles away lay several newly arrived steamers, theirdeep-toned whistles frequently sounding over the intervening waters. Itwas a beautiful sight and welcome sound. How easily the long andgraceful breakers rolled and broke upon the sands. With what music thefoam-tipped wavelets spread their edges, like the lace-trimmed ruffleson some lady's gown, upon the smooth and glistening beach. How the whitetents everywhere looked like doves of peace just alighted, and thelittle boats danced up and down on the river. I was glad to be there. Ienjoyed it. Nothing, not even the hard work, the storms, nor the bitterArctic winter which came afterwards ever effaced from my memory thebeautiful pictures of river, sea and sky repeatedly displayed duringthose first novel and busy days at Nome. 

CHAPTER X. 

THE FOUR SISTERS. 

It was during the first excitement of the gold discoveries in theKlondyke that four sisters left their home in Chicago and started forDawson. They were young, hopeful, ambitious and handsome. They owned atown lot in the city, but they had not the means with which to erect abuilding upon it, and the money would never be forthcoming if theyremained where they were. The ordinary salary of a working woman inoffice or store was not sufficient to allow them more than a trifleabove necessary living expenses, and they could see themselves old, wrinkled and grey before they could hope to attain their desired object. 

Reaching Dawson safely, as they did after weeks of peril and many novelexperiences, they set to work at what seemed to them at the moment themost lucrative labor of which they were capable. They were fitted forlaundry work only by being well and strong physically, and by having awillingness to do whatever they first found to do. 

This proved to be work at the wash-tub. Here the four women laboredmonth after month with a will, with the result that at the end of a yeartheir bank account was not insignificant, they owned several goldclaims, and in all the mining camp there were none who did not respectthe four sisters. 

Then came their first dark days. It was midsummer. Down among the grassroots and between the rocks of the hillside back of the famous camp, there trickled numerous fresh water springs, pure and cold when theyleft their sequestered sources among the seams and fissures, but gainingnothing of purity when spread out upon the little plain now thicklydotted with cabins. 

Here in the hurry and rush of the fast growing camp, when fortunes camequickly, and men lived at a rapid pace, there was little time forsanitary precautions, and so it presently happened that a shadow, like ahuge black bird of ill omen, suddenly hovered above the camp, sending ashudder through its entire length. A tiny germ, so small as to passunnoticed and unheeded by, and yet withal so deadly as to be called aplague, crept along, insinuating itself into the streamlets making theirway as best they could to their father, the Yukon; and the fever laidlow many victims. 

Early and late had the sisters toiled, never in a half-hearted way, butuntiringly, day after day, until one of their number, being perhaps lessstrong, or more weary from work to which she had been unaccustomed, andmore susceptible to disease, was stricken with fever, and after only afew days' illness, whispered her loving good-byes. 

This happened in the summer of 1899, and rumors of the great gold strikeat Nome now reached Dawson. One sister had been persuaded by a member ofthe Dawson Bar to make for him a happy home during the remainder of hislife, and she was married. 

Again their party numbered the original four, though there were now onlythree sisters. 

The excitement in Dawson regarding the new Nome gold fields dailyincreased, and it was stated by reliable steamer men from St. Michaelthat the new strike rivaled that of the Klondyke. 

The little party of four decided to go to Nome. In a short time theirbusiness was arranged, sales made, gold claims placed in charge ofagents, and everything made in readiness for their journey to Nome. 

It was the middle of September. The last boats were leaving Dawson, bothfor points on the Upper Yukon and for St. Michael. People leaving Dawsonby boat in the fall seldom linger beyond the third or fourth week inSeptember, for then the river may freeze at any time and they beprisoners in the camp indefinitely. 

The lower river steamer "Hannah" was about to push from the dock atDawson when a friend introduced me to the three sisters, and during thefollowing days on board an acquaintance sprung up which I much enjoyed. Little did we know that this friendship would afterwards be renewednearly two thousand miles away, and under circumstances vastly differentfrom any with which we had before become familiar. 

Landing safely from the "Hannah" at St. Michael, a few days were spentby the sisters waiting for stormy weather to subside, and they thensailed for Nome. Here they landed during the last days of September, amid falling snow, bleak winds and boiling surf, upon the sands of themost inhospitable beach in all that dreary Northland. No tree was to beseen. Not a rock under whose friendly shelter one might hide from thestorms. There was almost no lumber in the camp with which to buildhouses, and no incoming steamers expected. A few rude shacks, tents andsaloons, with two or three companies' buildings--of these was the towncomposed. Many were rushing for the steamers in waiting, determined onlyupon one thing--to get home to the States. Some carried heavy sacks ofgold, others went empty-handed. There was the summer's accumulation offilth in the camp, too young as yet for cleanly conditions, and thesebrought their sure accompaniment--the fever. Many suffered for weekswith it, and then died. 

Again came the dread plague to the sisters. Scarcely had they unpackedtheir trunks or found shelter for the winter when the younger of thesisters was stricken down. For days she raved in delirium, and allfeared she would die. Night and day they watched anxiously by herbedside. Everything was done for her recovery and comfort that could bedone in a new and rough camp like the one at Nome; for all who knew thebeautiful little sister loved her well. 

Then came the time when all the long and heavy yellow hair had to be cutfrom the lovely head in obedience to the doctor's orders. But the littlesister lived. Their prayers were answered, the worst was over, thedanger past. 

Then followed long and weary weeks of convalescing, while the winterstorms raged outside the little cabin, and the sun retreated fartherfrom the Arctic Circle and Nome, but the sisters thanked God, and againtook courage. 

Months after came the welcome springtime. With the earliest fine weatherand revival of business in the camp the sisters erected a store buildingand warehouse on the beach near by. Into the latter they movedtemporarily, hoping to rent the store to some of the numerous"tenderfeet" sure to arrive on the first passenger steamers. 

It was here I found the sisters on my arrival at Nome from San Franciscoin June, 1900. Little sister was well and strong again, growing a freshcrop of roses and lilies on her cheeks, and a new head covering oflovely, wavy yellow hair. On her lips she wore the same sweet, oldsmiles, however, and I knew her well by these. Since her recovery fromthe fever the hands of the sisters had not been idle, and they hadbecome expert at sewing furs. This had kept them busy as bees allwinter, and many were the caps, coats, mittens and capes made by theirindustrious fingers, which brought them a good income, while their roomswere always the rendezvous of friends than which a jollier lot could notbe discovered. 

Of the good influence going out through the rough mining camp during thelong and dreary winter from the home of these sweet and Christian women, no account has probably ever been kept, except by the recording angel, who never forgets. 

The day after we landed at Nome I secured work. Not, however, to beginimmediately, which pleased me well, as I should then have a little timeto look for father, inspect the camp, study conditions and take notesand kodak views. 

"Can you cook for a gang of men?" asked Mr. A. Kindly smiling down at mewhen I had stopped him on the street and asked for work in his camp forthe English girl and myself, as we wished to be together. 

"Indeed, I can. I will do my very best, Mr. A. , and I feel sure we canplease you. My friend is an extra good cook, as you will discover if yougive us work. Will you try us?"

"I will, " he replied. 

"At what wages, please?"

"Five dollars per day, each, with board, " promptly answered thegentleman whose two gold claims on famous Anvil Creek made him one ofthe richest men in Alaska. 

So it was settled. Claim number nine, Anvil, was about seven miles fromNome, and one of the most noted claims in the district. Mr. A. , a formerSwedish missionary at Golovin Bay, had, with his doctor brother, voyagedto Nome on the "St. Paul" when we did, so we already had a slightacquaintance with both gentlemen and were pleased to get the work. 

Anvil Creek claims had been worked the summer before. Gold had firstbeen discovered in the fall of 1898 by Mr. Hultberg, a Swedishmissionary, who learned of the precious metal around Nome from theEskimos. His mission was stationed at Golovin Bay, and he notified theSwedes, Brynteson, Hagalin, Lindbloom and Linderberg, who in turn saw G. W. Price and induced him to go with them, as he was the only one thereexperienced in mining. Price was on his way to Kodiak over the ice bydog-team en route to California, as the representative of C. D. Lane, the San Francisco mining man and millionaire. 

The most of Anvil Creek was staked by this party before they returned tothe mines at Council City, fifty miles up Fish River from Golovin Bay. 

"On July second, 1899, a second cleanup was made on number one aboveDiscovery Claim, Anvil Creek, the property of J. Linderberg. The resultof four men shovelling out of the creek bed from a cut five feet tobedrock for twenty hours amounted to fourteen thousand dollars in golddust. The men shovelled all the gravel from the moss down to bedrockinto the sluice box as it was all pay gravel. The owner refused fivehundred thousand dollars for the property without considering theoffer. "

Tierney is authority for the statement that this claim produced fourhundred thousand dollars that season. 

From this time the discoverers were known by the sobriquet of the "LuckySwedes, " for Anvil Creek was all good, there being no really "poor dirt"in it, and number nine, above Discovery Claim, proved itself, the firstsummer, also a banner winner. 

It was here that we expected to work, as soon as supplies could behauled to the claim, the monotony of bread making and dish washing to bevaried by the new and strange sights on an enormously rich gold claimnot far from the Arctic Circle. 

Everywhere around us were carpenter's hammers in operation, and tentswere rapidly going up. We found great difficulty in reserving groundspace enough for another tent, as others found the Sandspit as desirablefor tenting as we did, and elbowed us closely. Along the river's edgeand the beach near by many were digging and panning in the sandssearching for "colors. " Dog-teams were hauling freight and baggage, withtheir swearing and perspiring drivers at their heels, and while the bigblack-snake whips flourished in air above the dogs or upon theirstraining backs, the tongues of the faithful brutes hung from theirmouths, and their wide open eyes looked appealingly at bystanders. Myheart ached for the animals, but there were no humane societies inAlaska. 

About five o'clock on Sunday afternoon it began to snow. This was thefirst June snowstorm I had ever seen. Our little tent leaked badly, asit had been hastily pitched, and the snow melted as it fell. Smallrivers of water were soon dropping upon our heads. Rain coats, oilcloth, and opened umbrellas were utilized to protect the clothing andthe bedding. 

An hour of this experience would have been enough for one time, buttroubles seldom come singly, and so the wind began to blow. Donning herrain coat and rubbers the English girl did her best to tighten ropes andmake the tent taut, for madam's son had not returned from town. Presently, to our great joy, we saw him coming with a loaded dog-team offreight, and best of all, with a man friend to assist him, whose strongarms and broad shoulders were well fitted to tent pitching. Hastily thecart was unloaded and the large canvas tent unrolled and laid upon thesand. Stakes were driven, poles adjusted, ropes stretched with muchstraining, as the wind whistled more vigorously, and snow still fell;and the two men, both wet and cold, huddled into the little tent for acup of hot tea which was waiting. 

Then strong hands opened more boxes and a large oil stove, carpets, rugsand many other necessary things were hustled into the new tent, as wellas trunks, bedding, and the contents of the small tent, with theexception of canned goods and such things as water would not injure. Thesands were clean but wet, and if we were thankful for a stout canvascover over our heads we would have also been glad of a dry place underfoot. However, carpets and rugs were spread down, stoves lighted, andthe tent door flap fastened as securely as possible. 

As well as we could we arranged all for the night, but we expected tosleep little, for the storm was now fearful. Rain, snow and hail, eachcame down by turns, accompanied by a high wind which drove the surf inroaring rage upon the beach. How thankful we were that we had chosenthis spot instead of one directly in reach of the great rollers withtheir mist and spray; though we had the roar and boom of the surf in ourears continually. Sometimes it seemed that the wind had lulled, and thenwith increased violence it again screamed above our heads, threateningus each moment with disaster. 

At midnight a supper of hot macaroni, cocoa, bread, butter and cheese, with canned meat and jam, was heartily eaten by all, including thevisiting friend from Sitka who had assisted. A low box was used for atable and we all sat upon the mats, eating from tin cups and plates withthe keenest appetites. 

The weather was now awful. The storm had increased until it seemed eachmoment that the tent would be torn from its fastenings, and we be leftwithout any protection whatever. The ropes and stakes had frequently tobe looked after and made stronger. The snow had turned to rain, whichbeat heavily upon the stout canvas resisting well the water withoutleaking. 

By one o'clock the wind showed signs of abating, and we were so much inneed of sleep, that, all dressed as we were, we rolled ourselves in ourblankets and dozed on the rugs close to the oil stoves. For an hour Ilay uneasily dreaming, or listening to the royal cannonading of theheavy surf upon the beach. From my diary I quote the following extract:

"Monday, four in the morning, June eighteenth, 1900. --It is four in themorning and we are sitting around the oil stoves in the middle of thetent. We have just had hot cocoa and crackers. The surf still booms, butit does not rain, and the wind has died down. We are better off thanmany people. Tomorrow we will put up the other tent and get moresettled. We are thankful not to be on the sea beach, where so many arecamped. A. Wishes herself home again. People around our tent all nightwere talking, moving, afraid of the storm, but the big ships are stillhere and they would put out to sea if it were necessary for theirsafety. They say we have smallpox in town from the steamer 'Ohio, ' andyesterday Mrs. H. , who came up on the 'St. Paul, ' was reported to bedying from pneumonia. The nurse, Mrs. Judge R. 's friend, is caring forher. Judge R. And wife are still in Mrs. M. 's shack near the barracks. It has been daylight all night. I hope to hear from father soon, and getmy freight. My friends here have all theirs. The two men are smoking andtalking while I write, and the Eskimo dogs not far away are howling intheir usual interesting nightly manner. I will now try to get a littlemore sleep. "

We had heard much of beach mining at Nome, but saw little of it. Storieswere told of men who, in the summer of 1899, had taken hundreds ofdollars in gold dust from the beach sands by the crudest methods, andthousands of men were now flocking into the camp for the purpose ofdoing beach mining. They were sadly disappointed. Not, however, becausethere was no gold in the beach sands, but because it was soinfinitesimally tiny that they had no means of securing it. No handrocker, copper plate, nor amalgam had been used with success, neitherdid any of the myriads of prospective miners bring anything with themwhich promised better results. Great heaps of machinery called byhopeful promoters "gold dredgers" were being daily dumped upon the beachfrom the ships, signboards were covered with pictures of things similar, while the papers continually bloomed with advertisements of machines, which, if speedily secured by the miners, would, according to theimaginative advertiser, soon cause all to literally roll in riches. 

One flaming dodger ran in large letters thus: "Calling millions from thevasty deep. A fortune in one hundred days. Our dredger will work threethousand yards of sand in heavy surf at Cape Nome. It will take outtwenty-four thousand dollars in a day. You can make more money with usthan by taking flyers in wild-cat oil schemes, etc. " The poster wasillustrated by a huge machine gotten up on the centipede plan; at least, it resembled that hated insect from having attached to its frame twosets of wheels of different sizes along the sides like the legs of acentipede, but with a steam boiler for a head, and a big pipe for athroat from which the salt water was disgorged to wash out this immenseamount of sand and give the gold to the miner. It did not save the gold. 

Thousands of dollars of good, hard-earned money were dumped upon thebeach in the shape of heavy machines of different kinds, which wereworse than useless, and only brought bitter disappointment to theirowners. Men had stripped the beach the summer before of all coarse goldwhich had, perhaps, been ages in washing up from the ocean's bed, ordown the creeks from the hills, and only the fine, or "flour gold, " asit was called, remained. 

By the newcomers men were cursed for spreading abroad tales of beachmining of the year before, but this was unjust, for conditions were notthe same. The waters bringing the gold to the beach could not, in oneseason, replenish and leave the sands as rich as they had been afterlong years, perhaps ages of action, and blame could not rightly beattached to any one. Almost without exception, the men who did thecursing were the men who had never been hard workers, and did not intendto be, and so, after becoming satisfied that the nuggets were not thereto be simply picked up and pocketed, they turned, looked backward, andwent home. It was well for the new camp that they did. 

There was also much trouble over real estate. Land was very high inprice. Some Swedes, who, the year before, had paid seven hundred dollarsfor a town lot three hundred by fifty feet in size, now sold one-half ofit for ten thousand dollars. It is small wonder, then, where "possessionis nine points of the law" that men who rightfully claimed ground wereready to fight to keep it, and those who were wrongfully in possessionmany times stood guard with firearms. 

In pitching our tents upon the sandy beach, especially after gainingpermission of the old captain who told us we would be in the street ifever a street should be opened through on the Sandspit, but that was notlikely, and he had given us his full and free consent to our campingtemporarily there next his lots, we expected to have no trouble. Here wemiscalculated. Though the captain was kind and reasonable, he had apartner who was just the reverse, and this person gave us infinitetrouble. 

Scarcely had our first load of baggage been put upon the ground when hebegan to tramp fussily about at all times of day and night. After ourstakes were driven he would come quietly in the night and pull them up, so we would find our canvas flapping in the morning breeze when wewaked. Or, after we had retired for the night, he would come with someother, stand within hearing distance, and threaten us if we did not moveaway. 

One morning, upon rising, we found that he had moved a long carpenter'sbench directly upon the spot next madam's tent, which I was trying toreserve for my own tent as soon as I succeeded in getting my things fromthe steamer. This disappointed me much, but I said nothing; and when mytent finally came I pitched it on the other side, with my door directlyopposite hers and only six feet from her entrance. 

As to appearance this old man was a jolly sight. He wore long andtangled hair which had once been curly, but now hung in unkempt anddirty shreds upon his shoulders, while his hat was an antiquated relicof a former life in the States. A pair of old trousers generally hung byone suspender over a colored shirt, which, the summer before, possibly, had had a wash-tub experience, but not later; his footwear wasaltogether unmentionable. He was called well-to-do, and there was nonecessity for him to cut such an abominable figure, so he soon became aby-word, and was designated as "sour dough. " At all events, he was sourenough, and kept up a continual siege of torment until he received atemporary quietus. 

We three women were sitting in the tent one morning when there came avoice at the door. Going forward to enquire what was wanted, a man saidgruffly, thrusting a piece of paper into my hand. 

"A notice from the chief of police. "

"For what?" I inquired. 

"For you, to vacate these premises without delay. "

"Indeed! Are they to open a street? Will the other campers about heremove also?" I asked. 

"I don't know. My orders are that you shall move immediately. See thatyou do it, " said the man rudely. 

While holding the paper in my hands I glanced over it hastily, and sawthe marks of a spurious document. It was poorly constructed, and boreno official signs. I recognized it as a counterfeit. 

"We have had permission from captain S. , one of the aldermen, to put ourtents here, and we shall stay unless he orders us away, " said I stoutly. 

"You have permission from captain S. ?" he asked in surprise. 

"Yes, sir, from captain S. Himself, and you can say to the chief ofpolice that we shall stay here until the captain orders us to leave, "saying which I stepped back into the tent. 

The man retreated, muttering to himself as he went, for he was utterlyrouted, and never returned; neither did we hear any more for some timeabout moving our tents. It was as I suspected. Mr. Sourdough had thoughtto frighten us away, and the order from the chief of police was utterlybogus. 

Some time afterward, when madam attempted to put a floor into her tent, "Sourdough" again put in an appearance. He threatened, but she held out, when the obstinate and perverse old man trotted off down town andsecured an officer and four soldiers to come and put her off. Theofficer looked the ground over, inquired if there was room for teams topass if necessary, and seeing her tent in line with many others, heturned to the old man and said:

"This tent takes up no more of the street than the others. This lady hasas much right to be here as any one else. What is the matter with you?Let the women alone, " and he and his soldiers marched away. 

Mr. Sourdough tore his hair. He was wild with anger. The floor ofmadam's tent went down and stayed. 

Each day I was in the habit of giving my Swedish friends a call, andfound them finally ready to set up their restaurant tent. A large floorwas laid on Second street near the post-office, the large canvasstretched over the frame, tables and seats provided, a cornerpartitioned off for a kitchen, dishes placed upon shelves, and theybegan serving meals. At this juncture I happened in one day just beforenoon and found them rushed with work and unable to fill their mealorders for lack of help. Mary was peeling potatoes in haste, whiletrying to do other things at the same time, and Ricka and Alma wereflying like bees. 

"Let me peel those potatoes for you, " said I, taking the knife fromMary's hand; and when she demurred, I told her I really had nothing todo, and would be glad to assist. 

When the potatoes were peeled, dishes were heaped up to be cleaned, andI quickly washed them, feeling that I was of some service, and notheeding the surprised looks of a few acquaintances who chanced to catcha glimpse of me at work in the kitchen through the door. 

This I did each day, coming over after I had eaten my breakfast, androlling up my sleeves to my elbows, drove them deep into the dish panand hot water. 

Many were the jolly times we now had. How the jokes flew past each otherover the puddings, and the crisp pies needed almost no other seasoning. How cheerfully "the boys" brought wood and water and counted it rewardenough if they only received a smile from little Alma. Many a man wasglad enough, too, to render such service for a meal or lunch of hotcoffee and doughnuts, especially such good, big, motherly ones as Marymade, and there was no lack of men helpers. How the coffee steamed, thehot bread and meats smoked, and the soup odors tantalized theolfactories of hundreds of "tenderfeet" with their lusty Alaskaappetites, which were increased by an open air life such as all in thosedays were living. 

When at last we were summoned to our work, on Number Nine, the Swedishwomen pressed my hand cordially, leaving a good-sized bill in it at thesame time, saying: "When you get through on Number Nine come back to us;we need you. " I thanked them gratefully and said good-bye. 

The English girl and myself were soon settled in our little tent withits clean new floor on the hillside of claim Number Nine. No tree was tobe seen on the long, rolling hills, and only an occasional boulder onsome summit like Anvil Peak, perched as a sentinel above us. A few wildflowers bloomed on the tundra, and the waters of the little streamgurgled over the soft slate pebbles that strewed its course; but theseason so far was a dry one, and more water was needed before much couldbe done at sluicing. Miners were not happy at the prospect of a dryseason, which meant a stoppage of all mining operations, and eagerlyscanned the heavens for rain indications. A small force of men were atwork night and day. On Thursday, July twelfth, eleven hundred dollars ingold dust was taken from the sluice boxes in the creek, and two daysafterwards twelve thousand dollars, with which the owner of the claimwas much dissatisfied, calling them small clean-ups. 

A few hundred feet up stream, on Number Ten, the machinery of C. D. Lanewhirred constantly. On the upper end of Number Nine a small new machinecalled a separator was put in by some men from New York who had taken alay on the claim; but this scheme was not successful. 

Seeing men at work prospecting along the "benches, " as the banks of astream or hillsides are called by miners, and having a woman'sproverbial curiosity, after my work was done I climbed the hill toinvestigate. The prospectors had left after digging a hole about sixfeet deep and four square, evidently having satisfied themselves as towhat the ground contained. Into this hole I descended to feel of thecold, wet earth and inspect the walls. 

The miners had reached the frost line and gone, taking with them samplesof pretty white quartz rock, as much of the debris at the bottom of thehole plainly showed, but whether it contained gold I knew not. As yet Iwas a tenderfoot; but something satisfactory was without doubt foundhere and in the vicinity, as quartz claims were staked over the placerclaims the whole length of Anvil Creek that summer. 

While rambling about in search of flowers during our afternoon rests, wefound many interesting spots. To the northwest, over the high, bareridge, lay Snow Gulch, from which fabulous sums had the summer beforebeen taken, the blue and winding waters of famous Glacier Creek lyingjust beyond. Walking through the dry, deep tundra over the hills waswarm, hard work, though we wore short skirts and high, stout boots, andwomanlike, we were always filled to the brim with questions and ready torest if we chanced to meet any one, which was not often. 

Wherever we went, and whatever the hour, we met with no incivility. Hatswere lifted, and men rested a moment upon their shovels to look after usas we passed, while frequently some rough miner swallowed the lump inhis throat or wiped a tear, as he thought of his wife, daughter orsweetheart far away. We were the only women in the mines for milesaround, but felt no fear whatever, and indeed we were as safe there asat home, and there was no occasion for anxiety. 

Life was extremely interesting. Our work was not hard the first fewweeks; after that the force of men was increased. Rich pans of dirt (twoshovels full to a pan) were daily being brought to light. One pancontained seventy-two dollars and seventy-five cents, one eighty-threedollars and thirty-five cents. Big, fat nuggets already melted intowondrous shapes, but iron rusted, as all Anvil Creek gold is, for somereason, was discovered each day. One nugget tipped the scales atthirty-nine dollars, one at twenty dollars, and one at fifty dollars, with many others of like value. 

Wednesday, August eighth, the following entry was made in my diary:"Today has been the banner day for gold dust. The night's cleanup oftwelve hours' work was a big one--three pans full of gold. Later--Stillmore yet. A cleanup of nine thousand dollars and three of the largestnuggets I ever saw has just been made this evening. Two of the nuggetswere long and flat, as large as a tree-toad, and much the shape of one. The men took the first load of gold dust to town--seventy-fivepounds--but the bank was closed before they could get the remainderthere. The foreman says they are prepared to keep it here safely overnight, however, and I believe they are, judging by the big protuberanceson their hip pockets. "

CHAPTER XI. 

LIFE IN A MINING CAMP. 

As the rains came to facilitate the sluicing, more men were added to theforce shovelling in the creeks, and this made our work heavier. Anexceedingly cranky foreigner, as head cook, presided over the big coalrange in the mess-house, and we women "played second fiddle, " so tospeak. However, we all had enough hard work, as a midnight supper forthe second force had to be prepared and regularly served, and at this welabored alternately. 

Strange to relate, the men at the long tables soon began to exhibit avery great partiality for the dishes prepared by the English girl andmyself, to the end that the foreign fellow's black eyes snapped withanger, and he swore deeply under his breath. 

"He vill eat vat I gif heem. He moose eat it ven he hoongry, else hestarve himsel'. I care not he no like it, he get nothing other!" theangry man would exclaim, as the untouched plates of the men were scrapedinto the waste box. He would then, fearing that we would cook some dishmore palatable to the miners, hide the best food, or forbid us to usecertain ingredients as we wished. 

Of the culinary stores provided there never could be a complaint. Everything that money could buy in the way of fresh meat, potatoes, onions, canned and dried fruits and vegetables, flour, corn andoatmeals, were stacked up in the greatest profusion. From cannedoysters, clams and French sardines, to fine cocoa and cream, all washere found in quantities, after being hauled in a wagon behind powerfulhorses over the seven miles of heavy roads from Nome. By the time thegoods reached camp they were almost worth their weight in gold, but onemight have supposed them dirt cheap, for we, as hungry miners and cooks, were never limited. 

Week after week the patient animals and their driver were kept measuringthe distance between the city and the claim, even though the wet tundrain low places grew sodden and boggy, and the wheels repeatedly sank tothe hubs. At times more horses were attached to haul them out of somehole, or if these were not at hand, certain heavy cases were dumped offuntil the reeking, straining brutes had successfully extricated theload. Covered with mud and sweat, his high-topped rubber boots eachweighing a number of pounds, and his stomach too empty to allow ofconversation, after a long, hard day's work, the driver of this teamwould fling himself upon one of the benches alongside our table andsay:

"Yes, I'm ready to eat anything. Been caved in for two hours. "

This young man, as well as the night foreman, was a cousin of Mr. A. , both farmer boys, honest, kind and true. No oaths fell from their lips, and no language was used which their own mothers would ever blush tohear. 

The second of these, the foreman, was dressed also in great rubberboots, dark blue sweater, and broad-brimmed felt hat, with a quick eyeand ear for all around him, though he was a man of few words, which heweighed well before using. His hip pocket always contained a loadedrevolver, and he was obliged to sleep days after being on duty nights. 

To eyes so unaccustomed as ours to the sight, how strange it all lookedat midnight. From the big tent door which faced south and towards NomeCity we could see the blue waters of Behring Sea away in the distance. Great ships lying there at anchor, lately arrived from the outside worldor just about to leave, laden with treasure, at this long range lookedlike mere dots on the horizon. Between them and us there straggled overthe beach in a westerly direction, a confused group of objects we wellknew to be the famous and fast growing camp on the yellow sands. To ourright, as well as our left, rolled the softly undulating hills, glowingin tender tints of purples and greys, or, if the moon hung low above ourheads, there were warmer and lighter shades which were doublyentrancing. 

Accompanying the low moon twinkled the silver stars with their oldentime coyness of expression. Little birds, not knowing when to sleep inthe endless daylight, hopped among the dewy wild flowers of the tundra, calling to their mates or nestlings, twittering a song appropriate tothe time and place because entirely unfamiliar. 

No other sound was to be heard except the picks of the miners at work inthe stream. No word was spoken unless the foreman gave some order. Thosesleeping in nearby tents must not be wakened, and besides the men at theshovels and picks did no loitering. There were the long sluice boxes tobe filled with what was once the creek bed, from which the water was nowturned in another direction to await the morning's cleanup of gold. 

At that time the water would be conducted into the long boxes to washaway the dirt and gravel, leaving the heavier gold in the bottom. EitherMr. A. Or his brother, with the foreman, attended to cleaning up thegold. When all the dirt and gravel, or rock, had been washed out of thesluices, a whisk broom was used to brush the gold into a corner of thebox, a dustpan conveyed it to broad-mouthed gold pans close at hand, andthese were carried into the kitchen. 

Here the pans were placed upon the iron range, big mush spoons wereutilized for stirring, and the precious metal was well dried beforebeing weighed. As soon as possible afterward it was taken to the Bank ofNome. A tall, black horse was purchased for this purpose alone, andafter a few such trips the intelligent creature most reluctantlyapproached the office where the gold was kept, having learned of thegrievous burden he would have to bear. Sometimes he would snort, throwhimself and pull back, and in every way show his unwillingness toproceed. 

But no shirk was allowed here. The horse was led close to the steps ofthe office tent, and a gunny sack tied in the middle brought out by twomen and laid over the back of the unwilling beast. A rain coat orblanket was flung over the sack, and the man at the halter started fortown, leading the horse, which walked slowly and resignedly after beingcompelled to go. 

A second man, well armed with revolvers like the first, alwaysaccompanied the pair, and when the three had returned to the claimanother cleanup awaited them. Enormous sums of money were taken fromthis claim while we were there, averaging ten thousand to twentythousand dollars per day. Seventy men worked for a time when the waterwas at its best, part of that number on the day force and part at night. 

In August the west bank of the creek was accidentally pricked and foundto be far richer than the bed of the stream. Nuggets worth many dollarswere continually unearthed, the largest one that summer amounting toninety dollars. The richest pans contained sixty-four dollars, seventy-two dollars and seventy-five cents and eighty-four dollars, withothers ranging all the way below. 

From a bench claim next to Number Eleven on this creek, and onlyone-fourth of a mile above us, great heaps of gold were taken from theground, no pan carrying less, it was said, than five hundred dollars. 

From seventy men to wait upon when the stream was at high water mark, totwenty-five when it was lower, at any time our lot was hard. We workedwith chapped, bleeding hands and aching backs. We worked until our tiredlimbs sometimes refused to carry us further. By the middle of August thenights began to grow dark at nine o'clock, and a hold-up or two tookplace on the creek. The weather was rainy and cold, with frosty nightsbetween, and as we were all in tents, and these sometimes leaked, whichdid not improve the head cook's temper and he grew almost abusive; weretired, went to town, and left him alone to meditate. Here he hastilyand angrily for a few days longer tossed up nondescript messes for themen, which none could eat, and was then discharged in disgrace. 

In all there were fifteen placer claims staked on Anvil. Some of thesewere scarcely touched that summer, but from those operated fully twomillion five hundred thousand dollars were taken in three months. 

[Illustration: CLAIM NUMBER NINE, ANVIL CREEK. ]

During the six weeks we had spent at Number Nine, many improvements hadbeen made along the route and in Nome. Where before we had traveledseven miles we now walked only two, riding on the new narrow gaugerailroad, spoken of there as Mr. Lane's, the remainder of the way. 

At Discovery Claim, instead of a few straggling tents, there were eatinghouses, saloons, store-houses, a ticket and post-office, and the nucleusof a town. The cars we boarded were open, flat cars, with seats alongthe sides, to be sure, but they were crowded at one dollar per head toNome. After waiting a little time for a start, the whistle blew shrilly, the conductor shouted "all aboard!" and we trundled along behind asmoky, sturdy engine in almost civilized style. 

This was the first railroad in Alaska with the exception of the WhitePass and Yukon road, and will eventually extend to the southern coastand Iliamna. 

Next morning, after spending the night on the Sandspit with madam, Icalled, bright and early, upon my Swedish friends in their restaurant. 

"Good morning, Mrs. Sullivan!" cried Mary in a hearty voice, as shestirred the steaming mush on the kitchen range. 

"Good morning!" said Ricka more quietly, but with a pleasant, welcomingsmile. "Did you come from Number Nine?"

"Good morning!" from Alma, as she poured a cup of hot coffee for awaiting customer. "Do you want to help us? We have plenty of work. "

"That's what I came for, " said I, laying aside my hat and coat. "Willyou lend me an apron till I get mine?" glancing toward the kitchen sinkfull of unwashed dishes, and the cupboard shelves quite demoralized. 

"I'll lend you six if you will only help us. We are so busy servingmeals we cannot take time to get settled, " said Mary. "Yes, we movedfrom the tent last week, " she said in reply to my question. 

"We like this much better. The tent leaked during the hard rains, andflapped so much in the wind that we were afraid it would come down uponour heads. We have had this kitchen built on, and shall keep open tillthe last boats are gone for the winter. That will be two months longer, likely, " and Mary talked on as she dished up the griddle cakes and thetwo others waited upon the tables. 

I felt quite happy to have found work so soon, and that too amongfriends, and without any particular responsibility attached to theposition. I would dignify my labor, doing it well and acceptably, carrying always a sunny face and pleasing mood. The work was of a kinddespised by hundreds of women, who, after landing at Nome, had not foundagreeable and genteel situations, and so had gone back home, or, insome cases, done even worse. 

To be sure, the pay was not large, the work tiresome, and I would besnubbed by many persons, but I had not come to Alaska for my health. That was excellent. Then I had good food in sufficient quantities, whichwas always a thing to be considered in that country. I had a purpose inview which I never lost. I would get some gold claims. 

The Swedish people were brave and fearless, as well as patient andstrong. I had many acquaintances among them already. I felt they weregood people to stay with, and they were congenial. To be sure, a fewspoke English with an accent, and there were no small, white hands amongthem; but if the hearts and lives were clean and true, and so far as Icould judge they were so, I was satisfied. 

The missionaries from Golovin, including the young lady who had come upon the "St. Paul, " had, with my three friends here, called at NumberNine at different times during the six weeks of our stay there. Alreadya plan had been considerably discussed which would take a party of us toGolovin to winter, either in the Swedish mission or near it, and of allthings in mind so far this prospect most pleased me. 

We would then be fifty miles from the rich Council City mines on theFish River Creeks, and only half that distance from the Topkok diggings, of which we now heard considerable. Every creek within many milesaround Nome was entirely staked, but in the vicinity of Golovin we mighthope to secure claims, or, at least, be in a good position to learn ofnew gold strikes if any were made during the coming winter. 

"But we will keep a roadhouse if we go there, " said Alma, "and be makingsome money. I am sure there will be many people traveling throughGolovin all winter, and we can make a few dollars that way as well asany one else. Then we will not forget how to cook, " and the young woman, with eyes always open to the main chance for "making money, " as shecalled it, laughed at the bare possibility of such a thing. 

"We might do that and help in the mission, too, there are so many of us. I would like to work in the mission for a change, I think, " said Ricka, who was very religiously inclined and quiet generally. 

"What would you like to do, Mrs. Sullivan?" asked Mary. "You say solittle, and we talk so much. I want to know what you think. "

"Well, there are three of you to talk, and I am only one, " said I, laughing, as I placed the cups and saucers, all clean and shining, onthe cupboard shelves. "I should like the mission plan better thananything, for I have had some experience in mission work; but if they donot need us there, then I should like the roadhouse well enough, thoughI think if eight or ten of us, each having enough supplies for himselffor the winter, should form a club and live under one roof, we could doso more cheaply and comfortably than any other way, and have a realjolly, good time in the bargain. These young men, many of them, areintending to winter here somewhere, and all hate to cook for themselves, I know, while they would gladly get the wood, water, and shovel snow, ifwe did the cooking and housework. None need to work hard, and if a richgold strike were reported, somebody might want to go and do somestaking. In that way we might get some gold claims, " I reasoned, whileall three listened during a lull in the work. 

"That's what we all came to Alaska for--gold claims. I want three, "remarked Alma with complacency, "and besides, there is plenty ofdriftwood at Golovin on the beach which we could have for nothing, andsave buying coal at three dollars a sack as we do here, " glancing at thescuttle near the range reproachfully, as if the poor, inanimate thingwas to blame for prices. 

Little Alma was keen at a bargain. There was nothing slow about the greymatter in her cranium. If there was buying to do, or a commodity tosell, Alma was the one of the restaurant firm to do it, enjoying wellthe bargaining, where she was seldom outwitted. 

So in the intervals between meals, or at night when the day's work wasdone, we discussed our plans outside the kitchen door next the seabeach, watching the shipping in the roadstead, admiring the lovely skytints left by the setting sun, or gazing at the softly rolling breakersunder a silver-bowed moon. 

If we had plenty of hard work, with its not altogether desirable phases, we also enjoyed much beside the novelty. Some one we knew was always infrom the creeks, principally Anvil, to bring latest news, as well as tocollect the same, and the kitchen as well as the dining-room, was theconstant rendezvous of friends of one or all of us. Those prospectingamong the hills or on the beach at some distance from town came in oftenfor supplies and to visit the post-office, giving the "Star" a call forhot coffee, if not a supper, before leaving. Jokes and stories flewabout over the tables, and interesting incidents were always occurring. Good humor and good cheer flowed on every side along with the cordialgreeting, and tea and coffee, though nothing stronger in the way ofdrinks was ever placed upon the tables. 

In the kitchen we did not lack voluntary assistants when work pushed, orthere was what we called "a rush. " One young man would fill the waterbuckets at a neighboring hydrant, another would bring in coal, and someother would carry away refuse. 

Happy, indeed, were the great numbers of dogs fed from the "Star"kitchen. No beggar was ever turned away. No homeless and discouragedsoul, whether man or woman, sober or drunken, was allowed to leave asforlorn as he entered. Men often sat down at the tables, who, whenfilled with good food and hot drink, in a warm and comfortable room fellasleep from the effects of previous stimulants and sank to the floor. When this happened some strong and helpful arm assisted such a one withfriendly advice, to the street. 

The two sisters were now our nearest neighbors, the third and marriedone having gone with her husband to live in a new cottage of their ownin another part of the town. The eldest of the two had kindly offered melodging in the back part of their store building of which our restaurantrooms were a half, and from which we were only separated by a boardpartition. This was a temporary arrangement until I could find somethingthat suited me close at hand, as I chose to be near my work on accountof going to my room in the evening after my duties were done. Thesisters themselves still lived in their large warehouse a few feet backfrom the store, and between it and the surf which rolled ceaselesslyupon the sands. 

I was now more comfortably lodged than since I had landed at Nome. Mycanvas cot, placed in the back of the store, vacant except for a fewrolls of carpeting, matting and oil cloth on sale by the sisters, stoodnot far from the large coal heater in which fire was kept during theday, making the room warm and dry when I came in at night. Near thefoot of my cot a good window admitted light and sunshine, and a dooropened upon a flight of six stairs into a tiny square yard before oneentered the warehouse, where lived the sisters. This latter building wasmade of corrugated iron, on piles, with windows and a door in the southend looking directly out upon the water only a few feet away, and wasfitted cosily enough for the summer, but not intended for anythingfurther except storage purposes. A second door in the north end, opposite the one in the store, and only separated from it by the littleyard was the door generally used. At this time lodgings without firewere worth dollars a night in crowded Nome, and one's next neighborsmight prove themselves anything but desirable. 

Meanwhile we worked steadily. Many of the Anvil Creek mine owners andtheir men took meals at the "Star" whenever in town. Some of theiroffice employees came regularly. Hundreds were "going outside" on boats, and all was bustle and excitement. At least twenty-five thousand peoplehad landed at Nome during the summer, and fully one-half of them hadgone home discouraged. 

On Sunday, September second, there came up a most terrible storm, which, for the velocity of its gales, tremendous downfall of rain, terrificsurf, accompanied by great loss of life, as well as length of duration, had not been equalled for over twenty years. Never before was theproperty loss so great on the Behring Sea coast. 

By nine o'clock Sunday morning the large steamers at anchor had put farout to sea for safety. The wind rose, the rain poured. The surf wasgrowing more rough. At dinner time those who came in reported the deadbodies of nine men picked up on the beach. They had attempted to landfrom a steamer, and their small boat was swamped. One of the men drownedwas the mate of the vessel. For days the storm lasted and our workincreased. It was not long before the continuous rain had penetrated ourlittle kitchen roof and walls, roughly built as they were of boards, andfrom that on we worked in rubber boots and short skirts tucked stillhigher. With the storm at its hardest, I donned a regular "sou'wester, "or water proof hat, rather than stand with the rain dripping upon myhead, and a cape of the same material covered my shoulders. 

People living in tents when the storm began--and there werethousands--had been washed out, or been obliged to leave them, and couldnot get their own meals. The "Star" swarmed with hundreds who had neverbeen there before, as well as those in the habit of coming. Ten dayspassed. Sometimes there would be a lull in the storm for a few hours andwe hoped it was over, but the surf ran high and could not return beforethe wind again lashed it into fury. 

One midnight, when I was sleeping soundly after an unusually hard day'sduties in the kitchen, there came a hasty knock at my door. 

"Let me in quick Mrs. Sullivan, the warehouse, we fear, is going. Wemust come in here. We will bring some more of our things, " and littlesister dropped the armful of clothing she carried and ran back for more. 

Sure enough, as I looked, the water surged up under the warehouse to thefoot of the steps. When she returned with another load I offered todress and assist them, but she said they would only bring the clothingand bedding, and I better go back to bed. 

Breathlessly the sisters worked for a time, until the tide preventedthem from again entering the warehouse, and they made their bed near meon the floor. When, after watching the waters, they felt satisfied thatthey receded, they retired, weary and troubled, hoping that beforeanother high tide the storm would have subsided and the danger would bepast. 

By September twelfth the surf was the worst we had ever seen it, andSnake River had overflowed its banks. Most of those on the Sandspit wereobliged to flee for their lives. Hundreds were homeless on the streets. The town's whole water-front was washed away. Tents not only went downby hundreds, but buildings of every description were swept away andflung by the angry surf high up on the sands. 

Anchored lighters and barges were loosened from their moorings and cameashore, as did schooners broken and disabled. Dead bodies were each daypicked up on the beach, which was strewn with wreckage. 

One dark night, when the rain had ceased for a time to give place to afearful gale which tossed the maddened waters higher and higher, thereappeared upon the horizon a dim, portentous shape. At first it was onlya form, indistinct and uncertain. As we watched longer, it graduallyassumed the semblance of a ship. Keen eyes soon discerned a huge, blackhulk, of monstrous size when riding the crest of the breakers, smallerand partially lost to sight when buried at intervals in the trough ofthe sea. 

A ship was drifting helplessly, entirely at the mercy of the elements, and must soon be cast upon the beach at our feet. Approaching swiftly asshe was, in the heavy sea, as the violence of the wind bore her onward, lights appeared as signals of distress, telling of souls on board infearful danger. 

In dismay we watched the helpless, on-coming vessel. We were in directline of her path as she was now drifting. If by chance the mountain ofwater should, by an awful upheaval, rear the wreck upon its crest atlanding, we would be engulfed in a moment of time. No power could savethe buildings which would be instantly shivered to heaps of floatingdebris. 

Should we flee for our lives? Or would the wind, quickly, by somemiracle, change its course, and thereby send the menacing vessel to oneside of us or the other? Groups of patrolmen and soldiers everywherewatched with anxious eyes, and friends stood with us to encourage andassist if needed. 

God alone could avert the awful, impending disaster. He could do so, anddid. 

When only a few hundred feet from shore, the huge black mass, rearingand tossing like a thing of life in the raging sea, swerved to the westby a sudden veer of the wind, and then, amid the roar of breakers angryto ferocity, she, with a boom as of cannon in battle, plunged into thesands of the beach only a hundred and fifty feet away. 

The earth trembled. With one long, quivering motion, like some dumbbrute in its death struggle, the ship settled, its great timbers partingas it did so, and the floods pouring clean over its decks. Then beganthe work of rescuing those on board, which was finally, after manyhours, successfully accomplished. 

CHAPTER XII. 

BAR-ROOM DISTURBANCES. 

"Girls, O girls!" shouted Mary from the kitchen door in order to beheard above the waters, "Do come inside!" Then, as we answered her calland closed the door behind us, she said: "The danger is over now, andyou can't help those poor people in the wreck. There are plenty of mento do that. See! it is nearly midnight, and we shall have another hardday's work tomorrow. Go to bed like good children, do. "

"How about yourself, ma?" said Ricka, carrying out the farce of motherand children as we often did, Mary being the eldest of the four. 

"I'm going too, as soon as I get this pancake batter made, for I'm deadtired. We will hear the particulars of the wreck at breakfast, " repliedMary. 

"Poor things! How I pity them. What an awful experience for women ifthere were any on board, " said sympathetic Ricka, and I left themtalking it over, to roll into my cot, weary from twelve hours of hardwork and excitement. 

No anxiety, and no thundering of the breakers could now keep me awake, and for hours I slept heavily. 

Suddenly I was wide awake. No dream or unusual sound had roused me. Somenew danger must be impending. My pulses throbbed. The clock at the headof my cot ticked regularly, and its hands pointed to four. The sistersslept peacefully side by side. The whole town seemed resting after theintense and continued anxiety caused by the storm, and I wondered why Ihad wakened. 

However, something impelled me to get up, and, rising quietly from mycot in order not to arouse the others, I went to the south window andpeered out. 

My heart fairly stood still. 

The waters were upon us! They had already covered the lower steps at thedoor not six feet from the cot on which I had slept. I stood motionless. If I knew that the waters were receding, I would go quietly to bed, allowing the others to sleep an hour longer; but if they were risingthere was no time to lose. None could reckon on the tides now, for allprevious records had been recently broken. I would wait and watch a fewminutes, I decided, and I wrapped a blanket around me, for my teethchattered, and I shivered. 

How cruel the water looked as I watched it creep closer and closer. Howquietly now it swept at flood tide up through the piles under thewarehouse, covering the little back yard and the kitchen steps of therestaurant. With the cunning of a thief it was creeping upon us in thedarkness when we were asleep and helpless. 

Would the resistless waters persist in our destruction? Where should wego in the storm if obliged to fly for our lives?

Twenty minutes passed. 

Another step was covered while I watched--the tide was rising. 

Crossing the room now to where my friends lay sleeping, I touched littlesister upon the shoulder. 

"Wake up! Wake up! The tide is coming, --the water is almost at the door!I have been watching it for twenty minutes, and I'm sure we ought to bedressed, " said I, trying to keep my voice steady so as neither to betraymy fright nor startle them unnecessarily. 

Springing from their bed they hurried to the window and looked out. 

"I should say so!" exclaimed the younger lady in dismay. 

"These treacherous waters will not give us up. They want us, and all wepossess, and are literally pursuing us, I believe, " groaned Miss S. , theolder sister, struggling to get hastily into her clothing. "But we mustwaken the girls, " she said, rapping on the intervening wall, and callingloudly for the three other women who still slept soundly from fatigue. 

With that, we all dressed, and began to pack our belongings; I puttingmy rubber blanket upon the floor and rolling my bedding in that. This Itied securely, and dragged to the street door, packing my bags and trunkquickly for removal if necessary. 

In the restaurant none knew exactly what to do. The water had coveredthe back steps, and the spray was dashing against the kitchen door. Underneath, the little cellar, dug in the dry sand weeks before, andused as a storing place for tents, chairs, vegetables and coal sacks, was filled with water which now came within a foot of the floors. Fromsheer force of habit, Mary began building a fire in the range, and I topack the spoons, knives and forks in a basket for removal. Ricka thoughtthis a wise thing to do, but Alma remonstrated. 

"The water will not come in. You need not be afraid. If it does, we willonly run out into the street, leaving everything. Let us get breakfastnow, the people are coming in to eat, " and this very matter-of-factyoung woman began laying the tables for the morning meal. It was sixo'clock. The men soon began to pour into the dining room hungry, wet, and cold. Many had been out all night assisting in the rescue work orpatrolling the beach, inspecting each heap of wreckage in search of deadbodies and valuables, for many among the missing were supposed to haveperished in the storm. 

Three men engaged in rescuing the survivors of the big wreck of thenight previous, had been swept from the barge alongside, and gone downin the boiling surf. Searching parties were out trying to locate anumber of men who had started two days before, during a lull in thestorm, against the warnings of friends, for Topkok to the east. Theywere never again seen. 

I had now to find other lodgings, for the sisters needed their room. Leaving my work for an hour in the forenoon I tramped about in the mudlooking everywhere within two blocks of the "Star, " for I did not wishto go further away. 

After calling at a number of places, I was directed to a small hotel orlodging house across the street from the "Star, " and about one and ahalf blocks further east. A man and his wife kept the house, whichconsisted of eating room and kitchen on the east side of the lowerfloor, and a big bar-room or saloon on the west side. The second floorwas divided by a long narrow hall into two rows of small rooms for rentto lodgers. The woman showed me a little room with one window on thewest side. 

"I wish to rent by the week, as I am expecting to leave town beforelong, " said I, after telling her my business, and where I was at work. "What rent do you charge?"

"Five dollars per week, unfurnished, " said she. 

I caught my breath. The room was about eight feet square, and as bare asmy hand. Not even a shade hung at the window. It was ceiled with boardsaround and overhead. I asked if she would put up a window shade. Shesaid she would when her husband returned, as she expected him in a fewdays from Norton Sound. 

After talking with the little woman she seemed to wish me to take theroom, assuring me that there were only quiet, decent people in thehouse, and the saloon below was closed each day at midnight. There was abilliard table and piano in the bar-room; but no window shades, shuttersnor screens of any sort, she said. Her own room was next this one, andshe was always there after nine o'clock in the evening, so I need notfeel timid. 

Upon reflection, I took the room, and paid the rent. My things could notstand in the street, and I must have a place in which to sleep at night. It was high and dry, and far enough away from the surf, so that I neednot fear being washed out. I would not be in my room during the day, andit was only for a few weeks anyway. It suited my needs better thananything I could find elsewhere, and as for furnishings, I could dowithout. 

I went back to my work, and had my baggage and cot sent to the room. Icould settle things in a few minutes in the evening before retiring. 

The surf still boomed upon the beach, and rain and mist continued allday, but without wind. For hours the waters kept close to our floors, but did not quite reach them. Floating wreckage washed up at our feet, and two lighters, loose from their moorings, lodged beside the warehouseat the mercy of the surf. We were in constant fear that they would shovethe warehouse off the piles against our buildings, and that would be, without doubt, the finale. 

In the meantime there was "a rush" indoors such as we never before had. Many carried hearts saddened by the loss of friends or property. Somehad not slept for days. At the tables, at one time, sat two beggars, anda number of millionaires. Some who had reckoned themselves rich a fewdays previous were now beggared. The great wreck of the night before wasgoing rapidly to pieces. With a mighty force, the still angry breakersdashed high over the decks of the ship. Masts and rigging went downhourly, and ropes dangled in mid-air, while men unloading coal andlumber worked like beavers at windlass and derrick, which creaked loudlyabove the noise of the waters. 

More and more was the ship dismantled. When the storm cleared, and thesun came out next day, the scene was one of wondrous grandeur. Nothingmore magnificent had I ever before beheld. Great masses of water, mountain high, rolled continually landward, their snowy crestssurmounted by veils of mist and spray, delicate as the tracery on somefrosted window pane. As the sun lifted his head above the horizon, throwing his beams widely over all, each mist-veil was instantlytransformed into a thing of surpassing beauty. It could only be comparedto strings of diamonds, rubies and pearls. With a fairy's witchery, or amagician's spell, the whole face of the waters was changed. Each wreckedcraft along the shore, partially buried in sand, masts gone, keelbroken, and anchor dragged, with the surf breaking over all, wastransformed under the brilliant sunshine, until no painting could bemore artistically beautiful. Under the fascination of it all we forgotthe anxiety, the labor, and suspense of the last days and weeks, andevery moment of interval between work we spent at our door next thebeach, or after the falling of the tide, further out upon the sands. 

Many wrecks lay strewn along the beach. Schooners, barges, and tugs laybroken and helpless. Untold quantities of debris, lumber, pieces ofbuildings, tents, boxes, and barrels, all testified to the sad andtremendous havoc made by this great storm. 

In my little room I rested quietly when my day's work was done. Thelandlady had taken down an old black shawl I had pinned to the window, and hung a green cloth shade of ugly color, and too wide by severalinches. It was better than no shade, and I said nothing. For a bed I hadmy own cot; for a washstand, a box. At the head of my cot stood twosmall boxes, one above the other, and upon these I placed my clock, matches, pincushion, brush and combs, while below were stowed away otherlittle things. A few nails on the wall held my dresses, but my trunkremained packed. A candle, tin wash basin, and bucket completed my roomfurnishings, simple and homely enough to satisfy the asceticism of acloistered nun or monk. 

On September twenty-seventh there fell the first snow of the season. Alittle had for days been lying upon the hilltops of Anvil, but nonenearer. The only fire in my room was an oil lamp upon which I heatedwater upon going home at night; but with plenty of blankets and woolclothing I was comfortable with the window open. 

One evening while going to my room I heard some one singing in thebar-room. I hurried up the stairs on the outside of the building, whichwas the only way of entrance to the second floor, and entered my room. Depositing my lighted lantern upon the floor, I listened. The singingcontinued. It was a youthful woman's voice. I would see for myself. Going quietly out the door, and down part way to a window crossed by thestairs, I sat down upon a step and looked into the room below. It wasthe big bar-room. It was pleasant and warm, with lights and fire. Uponthe bright green cloth of the billiard table lay a few gay balls, but nogame was then in progress. The big piano waited open near by. Thebartender stood behind the bar, backed by rows of bottles, shiningglasses and trays. A mirror reflected the occupants of the room, some ofwhom were leaning against the counter in various attitudes, but thecentral figure stood facing them. 

It was a beautiful young girl who was singing. 

A few feet from, and directly in front of the girl, was her companion, awell dressed and good looking young man a little older. Both wereintoxicated, and trying to dance a cake walk, accompanying themselves bysinging, "I'd Leave my Happy Home for You. "

She was singing in a tipsy, disconnected way the senseless ditty, swaying back and forth to the imaginary music. Beautiful as a dream, with dark hair, and great melting eyes, her skin was like lilies, andeach cheek a luscious peach. Her tall, graceful figure, clad in long, sweeping black draperies, with white jeweled fingers daintily liftingher skirts while she stepped backward and forward, made a picture bothfascinating and horrible. 

I sat gazing like one petrified. The girl's laugh rang through the room. "I'd Leave my Happy Home for You, ou--ou, " she was singing still, weaving and swaying now from side to side as if about to fall. Hercompanion approached and attempted to place his arm about her shoulders, but she gave him a playful push which sent him sprawling, at which sheshouted in great glee, dropping her drapery and flinging her lovely armsabove her head. How the diamonds sparkled on her little hands I How themen in the bar-room clapped, swearing she was a good one, and must haveanother drink. Someone gave an order, and the bartender handed out asmall tray upon which stood slender-necked amber-colored glasses filledto the brim. 

As the girl quickly tossed off the liquor, I groaned aloud, awaked frommy trance, and fled to my room, where I bolted the door, and fell uponmy knees. God forgive her! What a sight! I wanted to rush into thebar-room, seize the young girl, and lead her away from the place and hercompanions, but I could not. I had barely enough room for myself. I hadlittle money. What could I do for her? Absolutely nothing. If I went inand attempted to talk with her it would do no good, for she was drunk, and a drunken person cannot reason. The men would jeer at me, and Imight be ejected from the place. 

Finally I went to bed. At midnight the singing and shouting ceased, thepeople dispersed, the bartender put out the lights, and locked thedoors. 

For the first time since reaching Nome, my pillow was wet with tears, and I prayed for gold with which to help lift these, my sisters, fromtheir awful degradation. 

It was well towards midnight, and I had been asleep for some time. Mysubjective mind, ever on the alert as usual, and ready to shareenjoyment as well as pain with my objective senses, began gradually toinform me that there was music in the air. Softly and sweetly, likerippling summer waters over mossy stones, the notes floated upward to myears. The hands of an artist lay upon the keyboard of the instrument inthe room beneath. 

I listened drowsily. 

With the singing of brooks, I heard the twitter of little birds, therustle of leaves on the trees, and saw the maiden-hair nodding in theglen. I was a little child far away in the Badger State. Again I wasrambling through green fields, and plucking the pretty wild flowers. Howsweet and tender the blue skies above! How gentle the far-away voice ofmy mother as she called me!

They were singing softly now, --men's voices, well trained, and insweetest harmony:

 "I'm coming, I'm coming, My ear is bending low. I hear the angel's voices calling Old Black Joe. "

They sang the whole song through, and I was now wide awake. 

Familiar songs and old ballads followed, the master hand at the keysaccompanying. 

"We are going outside on the Ohio tomorrow, " said one in an interval ofthe music, "and then, ho! for home again, so I'm happy, " and a momentaryclog dance pounded the board floor. 

"Have a drink on it, boys?" asked a generous bystander who had beenenjoying the music. 

"No, thanks, we never drink. Let's have a lively song now for variety, "and the musician struck up a coon song, which they sang lustily. Thenfollowed "America, " "Auld Lang Syne, " and "'Mid Pleasures and Palaces, "the dear old "Home, Sweet Home" coming with intense sweetness and pathosto my listening ear. No sound disturbed the singers, and others filedquietly out when they had gone away. "God bless them, and give them asafe voyage home to their dear ones, " I breathed, with tears slippingfrom under wet lashes, and a great lump in my throat. 

"Thank God for those who are above temptation, even in far-away Alaska, "and again I turned, and slept peacefully. 

CHAPTER XIII. 

OFF FOR GOLOVIN BAY. 

By October twelfth the weather began to be quite wintry, with snowflurries, cold wind, and a freezing ground. All now felt their timeshort in which to prepare for winter, change residence, and get settled. After many days of planning, in which eight or ten persons wereconcerned, it was finally decided that we should go to Golovin Bay. Thehead missionary, and one or two of his assistants from that place, hadbeen with us part of the time during the great storm, so we were quitewell acquainted, and we would be near the Mission. 

The "boys, " as we called the young men for short, would build a cabin inwhich the funds of the women were also to be pooled. Three of the boyshad gone, some weeks before, to Golovin to assist in the erection of anew Mission Home, twelve miles further down the coast; but as a shiploadof mission supplies had been lost at sea, including building materials, their work was much hampered, and it was not expected that the new homewould be completed, though sadly needed for the accommodation of theconstantly increasing numbers of Eskimo children for which it wasintended. 

In this case, no new helpers could be added to the missionary force, though Miss L. , a tall, intelligent young woman, was to be placed in theHome kitchen as cook, and would accompany us to Golovin. It was decided, then, that the restaurant be closed immediately before the last boatleft Nome for Golovin, as it would be impossible to get there after thelast steamer had gone until the ice was solid, and winter trails weregood over the hills. Most of us did not care to remain so long where wewere, and made ready to sail on the small coast steamer "Elk, " scheduledto leave Nome October eighteenth. 

On the evening of the sixteenth the doors of the "Star" were formallyclosed. We had had a rush up to the last moment, and all hands werecompletely tired out. It had been a long pull, and a steady pull, andthe thought uppermost in the minds of us four women was to get toGolovin and rest. Even Alma sighed for a vacation from hard work, feeling that the roadhouse, if they opened one, must wait until she wasrested. 

Mary wished to remain at Nome for a while, and come later by dog-teamwhen the trails were good. She would take a day after we had gone tofinish storing away the "Star" outfit for the next summer, and make therooms tidy, afterwards visiting acquaintances, and doing shopping. 

For two days after closing the "Star" we were busy as bees, but at achange of occupation. We bought food supplies, coal-oil, and warmclothing, receiving parcels of the latter, including yarns for winterknitting, at the hands of the stewardess of the "St. Paul, " who hadkindly made our purchases in San Francisco at better prices (for us)than we found at Nome. Some bought furs, when they could find them, though these were scarce and costly, and each person carried his ownbedding. Letters to the outside were written and posted, mailscollected, freight and other bills paid, and tickets secured on thesteamer. 

For my own part, I now found some kindly helper with strong armswhenever I had a trunk, bag, or box to lift or transfer, and noremuneration for services thus rendered beyond a smiling, "thank youvery much, " was ever accepted. 

What a strong, hearty, clean, and good-natured lot were these Swedes. How helpful, sympathetic, and jolly withal. It was easy for them to seethe clear, bright side of everything, and to turn an innocent joke onthemselves occasionally; for one told on another is never so effectiveand enjoyable as a joke on oneself; but there were often those withtears in their eyes, and a homesick feeling at their heart upon biddingfarewell to friends who were leaving for the outside. 

With the approach of a long, hard winter in the Arctic, so unknown anduntried by many, with a distance of thousands of miles of ocean soon toroll between them, it was many times difficult to say a carelessgood-bye. For those remaining in Alaska, who could foresee the future?Was it to be a fortunate and happy one, or would it disclose onlymisfortune, with, perchance, sickness and death? Would these partings befollowed by future happy meetings, or were they now final? Who couldtell?

Among those constantly sailing for the outside were those who leftregretfully, and those who left joyfully; there was the husband andfather returning to his loved ones with "pokes, " well filled withnuggets, and the wherewithal to make them more happy than ever before. 

There were those returning to sweethearts who daily watched and waitedlongingly for their home-coming which would be more than joyful. Therewere those leaving who would come again when the long winter was over, to renew their search for gold already successfully begun; and they weresatisfied. 

There were many who left the gold fields with discouragement depictedupon their every feature. They had been entirely unable to adaptthemselves to circumstances so different to any they had before known, and they had not possessed the foresight and judgment to decide affairswhen the critical moments came. Perhaps a fondness for home, and dearones, pulled too persistently upon the heartstrings; nothing herelooked good to them, and they went home disgusted with the whole world. Unless a man or woman can quickly adjust himself or herself to changedconditions, and has a willingness to turn his or her hand to anyhonorable labor, he would better remain at home, and allow others to goto Alaska. 

If a man goes there with pockets already well lined, intending tooperate in mining stocks, he still needs the adjustable spirit, becauseof the new, crude, and compulsory manners of living. He must be able toforget the luxury of silver spoons, delicate hands, soft beds, and steamheat; enjoying, or at least accommodating himself to the use of tinspoons, coarse food, no bed, and less heat, if his place andcircumstances for a time demand such loss of memory. 

A bountiful supply of hopefulness is also necessary, in order, at times, to make the darkness and discomfort of the present endurable, and thiswill wonderfully cheer and create patience. Thousands of persons whowere ill qualified in these and other respects had journeyed to Alaska, only to return, homesick, penniless, and completely discouraged, whonever should have left their home firesides. 

Not so with the Swedish people. They are accustomed to a cold climate, hard work, and conditions needing patience and perseverance, withoutgreat luxuries in their homes, and being strong and hearty physically, they are well fitted, both by nature and practice, for life in the newgold fields of Alaska. There were more reasons than one for theirsuccess in the far Northwest, and a little study of cause and effectwould disclose the truth, when it will be found that it was not all"luck" which made so many successful. 

Our last day at Nome is a confused memory of trunks, boxes, bags, barrels, dog-teams, tickets, bills, lunches, tables, dishes, andnumerous other things. Tramping hurriedly through busy, dirty streets, and heavy, sandy beach, with arms loaded with small baggage (we hadneither parrots nor poodles) making inquiries at stores and offices, doing innumerable errands, saying good-byes, and having good-luck wishescalled after us; and then, when the sun had disappeared for the day, andnight was almost upon us, we turned our backs upon our summer camp, andhastened to our winter home. 

At the water's edge small pieces of ice washed up and down with aclicking sound upon the sands, as if to give us notice of approachingwinter, but the ocean was almost as smooth as a floor. No breath of winddisturbed the surface, and only a gentle swell came landward atintervals to remind us of its still mighty, though hidden, power. 

Then we were all in readiness to leave. A little boat was drawn upon thesand. Into it all small baggage was tossed. It was then pushed outfarther by men in high rubber boots standing in the water. 

"I cannot get into the boat, " laughed Little Alma, "I will get my feetwet. "

"Not if I can help it, " answered a stalwart sailor, who immediatelypicked her up bodily and set her down in the boat, repeating theoperation three times, in spite of the screams and laughter of Miss L. , Ricka and myself. Ricka and I were only of medium height, but Miss L. Was a good six-footer, and when we were safely in the boat, and she hadbeen picked up in the sailor's strong arms, if she did not scream forherself, some of us did it for her, thinking she would certainly go headfirst into the water; but no, she was carefully placed, like the rest ofus, in the boat. 

After getting settled, and the final good-byes were waved, the mensprang in, those on shore pushed the boat off; we were again on thebosom of old Behring Sea. Smaller and fainter grew all forms upon theshore. Darker and deeper grew the waters beneath us. The lights of a fewbelated steamers, twinkled in the distance, their reflections, beautifulas jewels, quietly fixed upon the placid waters. Like a thing of sense, it seemed to me, the great ocean, full of turmoil, rage, and fury sorecently, it would show us, before we left, how lamblike, uponoccasions, it could be; and all old scores against it were then andthere forgotten. 

A dark form soon lay just before us. "Where is the 'Elk, '" I asked ofa sailor rowing, looking about in the gathering darkness which hadrapidly fallen. 

[Illustration: CLAIM NUMBER FOUR, ANVIL CREEK, NOME. ]

"There it is, " pointing to a black hulk which lay sullenly, without aspark of light visible, close to us. 

"But do they not know we are coming? Have they no light on board? Howcan we get upon deck?" we asked anxiously. 

"O, they will bring a lantern, I guess, " laughed the sailor, thenthinking to put us at our ease, he called lustily as he rested himselfat his oars. Not getting a reply, he shouted again. 

Presently two men appeared with as many lanterns. 

"Here, you fellows, get a move on, and help these ladies on board, willyou? Were you asleep, hey?"

"Wall, no, not 'zactly, sah, but I'se done been working hard today, " itwas the colored cook replying, as he rubbed his sleepy eyes. 

"Haul up alongside this dory, " said the other man as he put his lanterndown, "and let the ladies get into that first, then we'll help 'em uphere. "

With that we climbed out as we best could in the darkness, one afteranother, the boys assisting, until we all stood laughing in the littlecabin, and counted noses. 

"Are we all here?" asked Mr. G. , who, as usual had a thoughtful careover all. 

"All here, I think, but the baggage. How about that?" said I. 

"I'll see to that, " and he was already on deck, while I continuedcounting. 

"Alma, Ricka, Miss L. , Mr. G. , Mr. L. , Mr. B. , and myself--the luckynumber of seven. How fortunate we are. We are sure to have good luck. Too bad Mary is not here, but then we would not be seven, " and we wereall laughing and talking at the same time. 

In the cabin there was only one lamp, and that was swung over the table, looking in all its smoky smelliness as if it had hung there for ageswithout a scrubbing. The table was covered with dirty dishes scatteredupon an oilcloth spread. The room smelled of fish, tobacco, andcoal-oil, and we were obliged to go to the door now and then for freshair. There was no fire, nor heat, neither was there a place for any. Rows of berths in two tiers lined each side of the cabin, but they weresupplied with mattresses only. Dark curtains hung on wires before theberths, and these would furnish us with our only privacy on the trip. 

Finally we selected our berths, assorted our luggage, and sat down torest. We were disappointed in the "Elk. " She was not a "St. Paul, " thatwas certain. The colored cook soon entered. His apologies were profuse. 

"Hope de ladies will 'scuze de state ob dis year room, but I'se donebeen mighty busy today, and will hab tings fine tomorer. "

"That's all right, Jim, if you only give us a good dinner tomorrow. Canyou do it?" asked Mr. L. 

"Yas, sah, dis chile good cook when de tings are gibben him to cook, butwhen dere's no taters, no fresh meat, no chicken, no fruit, den it'smighty hard to set up fine meals. Dat's de truf!" and Jim nodded hiswoolly head emphatically at the frequent undesirable state of hislarder. 

"Prices high heah, sah, but dis old man almos' fru wid de business; delas' trip ob de 'Elk' dis summah, an' I'se glad of it, " and hedisappeared in the galley carrying his arms full of dishes. 

When the table was cleared and Jim had spread an old and much rumpledred cover over it, I took from my basket a small square clock, andwinding it up with its little key, started it going. It was a musicalclock I had purchased when in Nome, of a small boy about to leave forthe outside. It had been given him by a lady, and he had grown tired ofit, his mind being so much upon his contemplated long journey. He wouldsell it for three dollars, he said, and I paid the money, needing a timepiece, and having none. So now the little music box ticked off its musicto the entertainment of all. 

However, we were all tired and the place was cold, so after we had takenour last look at the lights of Nome, scattered as they were along theshore for miles in the darkness, we turned in for the night, alldressed as we were, and drew the curtains around us. The long, deep-toned whistle of the "Elk, " had sounded some time before, and wewere headed east, making our way quietly over the smooth waters. 

Another chapter of our lives had begun. What would the end be, Iwondered. 

During the night I was awakened by men running and shouting on deck. Thesteamer stopped. Somebody went out to inquire the cause. In a littlewhile he returned, saying that four men had been picked up, nearlyfrozen, in an open boat which was leaking badly, and they were foundjust in time. Dry clothes, with food and hot drinks, and they would beall right again; so I turned over and tried to sleep, but the menlounged about, smoking and talking with the captain a good share of thenight, so that sleep was almost out of the question. 

How I wished for fresh air! How I hated the tobacco smoke! But we couldsay nothing, for the men had no beds, no other place to sit, and it wastoo cold on deck. We must be patient, and I was patient, feelingthankful that the lives of the four men had been saved, if each one didsmoke like a volcano and come near choking us to death. 

After a while there was another commotion. What now? Their five dogs hadbeen left in the leaking dory, which was trailing behind us, the boatwas swamping, and the animals were almost drowned. They were whining, crying, and soaking wet; so the "Elk" was again stopped, the dogs takenon board, along with some of the miners' outfits, and we again startedon our way. 

The men said their dory had been blown ten miles out to sea by a windmany hours before, and had then sprung a leak, wetting their food, andthreatening them with destruction, when the "Elk" appeared and took themaboard in the night. 

"Wall, yes, we had given ourselves up for lost, though none said muchabout it, " remarked one of the saved men next day, in speaking of theirexperience. "Some one mentioned God Almighty, I believe, and I couldalmost have spoken to Him myself, but it does look like He had donesomething for us, don't it?" said the miner, laughing quietly, in apleased, relieved way as he finished. 

We were exceedingly glad for their deliverance from a watery grave, butwe pitied ourselves for our discomforts, until we pictured ourselves intheir forlorn condition, far out from land, at night, in a leaky boat, without food and freezing; then I found myself feeling really gratefulfor the privilege of sailing on the "Elk, " and not discontented as atfirst. We would get fresh air enough this winter, no doubt, to driveaway all remembrances of the air in the little steamer's cabin, whichwas cold as well as foul. There were no windows or ports that we couldsee; there was doubtless a closed skylight somewhere, but to keep warmeven in our berths required management. In my hand luggage I carried abright woolen Indian blanket, a souvenir of St. Michael the year before, in which I now rolled myself, already dressed in my warmest clothing andheavy coat. 

A light-weight grey blanket was loaned me by the cook, who had purloinedit from the pilot's bunk, he being on duty and not needing it thatnight. This I was rather chary of using, for reasons of my own, but itwas that or nothing, only the mattress being underneath. On my head Iwore a pink crocheted affair, called sometimes a "fascinator, " which wasnow used simply and solely for service, I assured my friends, and notfrom any lighter motive, --but my feet! How I should keep themcomfortable while on board was a question. With my feet cold I would beperfectly miserable, and although I wore wool hose and high, stout lacedboots, I soon found on going aboard the "Elk" that to be comfortable Imust make a change. 

I said nothing, but turned the situation well over in mind. At last Ifound a solution. Going to my bags once more, on the aside I drew out mynew reindeer skin muckluks, or high fur boots, and looked at them. Whatenormous footgear, to be sure. Could I wear those things? I had put fivegood, hard-earned dollars into them, and they were said to be warm andvery comfortable when worn properly, with hay in the bottoms, and Arcticsocks over one's hose, but I had no hay and could not get any. 

I had the socks in my trunk, but that was in the hold of the ship, orsomewhere out of my reach. I held the muckluks in my hands, and slowlyturned them round. Suddenly a bright thought came. I would pull them onover my shoes. I did it. They went on easily. I drew the stringsattached at the back of the ankle forward over the instep, crossed them, carried them back, crossed them a second time and tied them in front, inorder to use up the strings so they would not trip me in walking. Justbelow the knees I pulled a woolen drawstring which was run into thegreen flannel, inch-wide heading, and tied this loosely; then I studiedthem. Shades of my buried ancestry! What a fright! My own mother wouldnever know me. I wanted to scream with laughter, but could not, for Ihad performed the operation in a most surreptitious manner, behindclosed doors (bunk curtains), after the others had retired. 

I had no compunctions of conscience as to putting my shoes upon the bed, for the mattress was both sombre and lonely, and as for the muckluks, they had never been worn by man (and were surely never made for woman). The most that I could do was to lie back upon my bed, cram my fascinatorinto my mouth, and struggle to suppress my risibles. 

After a time I succeeded, and lay enjoying the new sensation of feetand limbs warm and cozy as if in my mother's warm parlor at home; andthen I slept. 

Next morning I kept my berth late. My sleep had been much broken, andthe place was cold. The bad air had taken my appetite, and there werealready too many in the small cabin for convenience. Four or five menand three women besides our own party of seven, crowded in between thedining table and the berths, filled the small cabin quite beyondcomfort. 

The main question in my mind, however, was how to prevent the companyfrom seeing my feet. I would put off the evil hour as long as possible, for they were sure to laugh heartily when they saw my muckluks, and totake them off--I would not. Some one brought me a sandwich finally, inquiring at the same time for my health, but I assured them it wasfirst class, --I was only resting. Watching my opportunity, toward noon Islipped out of my berth quietly and made myself ready for dinner, keeping my feet well out of sight, for cook Jim had promised a finespread for the two o'clock meal. 

When it came I was ready. It is said that hunger is a good sauce, and Ibelieve this is true, for otherwise I could never have eaten the dinnerthat day. Upon a soiled and rumpled white (?) cloth Jim placed his "bigspread, " which consisted of whole jacketed boiled and baked potatoes, meat stew (no questions allowed), dried prunes stewed, biscuits, andfourth rate butter, with tea and coffee. 

[Illustration: MAP OF ALASKA. ]

[Illustration: MAP OF ALASKA. ]

At only one camp was there a stop made. There were two or threepassengers on board for Bluff City, a new and prosperous mining camp, composed chiefly, though so late in the season, of tents. Lumber andsupplies of different kinds had to be put off. As the entrance to thehold of the ship where the stores were kept was in our cabin, we hadplenty of fresh air while the doors were all open, along with themustiness from below, for several hours. However, I managed to keeppretty comfortable and snug in "fascinator" and muckluks, enveloped as Iwas in my Indian blanket. 

Hearing a bluff, hearty voice which sounded familiar, I looked around, and in walked a man whom I had seen at St. Michael the fall before. Hehad charge of the eating house there, where my brother and I had takenour meals for two weeks. I had not forgotten his kindness in giving mesore throat medicine when there had been nothing of the sort to buy, andI was suffering. 

This man remembered me well, and sat down to chat for a little whilewith us. He was a miner now, and a successful one, he said, for he wastaking out "big money" from his lay on Daniels Creek, only five minutes'walk from the beach. I had been informed of his good fortune beforemeeting him, so was ready with congratulations. 

He told me of his cabin building, his winter's stores and fuel, andseemed in high spirits. Of course I could not ask him what he meant by"big money, " or what he had taken from his claim, although it would nothere, as in the Klondyke, be a breach of etiquette to inquire. After afew minutes chat the man bade us good-bye, and descended to the smallboat alongside, which was to carry him and his freight ashore. 

It was nearly dark by this time, and another night must be passed onboard. Some were complaining of the cold. Others were shuffling theirfeet to get them warm. 

"My feet are awfully cold, " said Alma, moving them uneasily about. "Aren't yours, Mrs. Sullivan?"

"Not at all, " I replied, trying to look unconcerned, at the same timeputting my feet further under my skirts, which were not the very shortones I had worn at Nome. "You know what having cold feet in this countrymeans, I suppose, Alma?"

"O, I am not in the least homesick, if that is what you mean. I amperfectly happy; but--" (here she glanced down upon the floor in thedirection of my feet) "what have you over your shoes, any way, to keepso warm, Mrs. Sullivan?"

There was no help for it, and the muckluks had to come to light, anddid. At sight of them they all shouted, and Alma laughed till the tearsran down her cheeks. 

"And you have had these on all day without our seeing them? Where haveyou kept your feet, in your pocket?" she persisted. 

"Well, no, not exactly, but of course, under the circumstances, youcould hardly expect me to hang a signboard out to call attention tothem, could you?" I laughed. 

"I should say not. Will we all look like that in muckluks? Is therenothing else we can wear this winter? They will make our feet look soawfully large, you see?"

"That's the way we will all look, only a good deal worse, for some of ushave no skirts to cover them with, as you have, " spoke up Mr. G. For thefirst time. 

"I thought the 'Elk' leaned to the land side more today than usual, "said Mr. B. With a twinkle, "but now it is explained. "

"Bad boy! My muckluks were on that side of the ship from the first, onlythey were in my bag for a while. They are no heavier now than they werethen. You shall have no supper, " said I, with mock severity. 

So I kept the fur boots on, in spite of their jokes, wondering what theywould say when I arrived at Golovin and removed my fascinator (anothersurprise I was keeping for them), and contented myself by thinking I hadthe laugh on them, when they complained of cold feet, and my own were soperfectly comfortable. 

At last, on the morning of October twentieth, with the sun just risingover the snowy hills surrounding the water, the cliffs on both sides ofthe entrance standing out clear and sharp in the cold morning light, andwith one ship already there, we dropped anchor, being in Golovin Bay. The settlement, a score of houses, a hotel, a flagstaff or two, and theMission. 

I now waked the girls, who turned out of their bunks, dressed as theyhad been since coming on board the "Elk, " and we made ready to goashore. We were out in deep water, still some distance from the beach, and must again get out into a small boat, probably for the last timethis year. Not all could get into the boat; we must take turns, but wewere bundled into it some way, and soon we were upon the sands, a dozenfeet from dry land. Again we were transferred by one man power, as atNome, to the sands, which were here frozen quite hard, and upon which Ihad the sensation, at first, of walking with a gunboat attached to eachfoot. 

Some one conducted us to the Mission House, only a few hundred yardsfrom our landing place, while the boat went back to the "Elk" for theothers. Miss E. , who had come up on the "St. Paul" with us, and now thehousekeeper here, came running out to welcome all cordially. By her wewere shown into the cozy little parlor, so tidy, bright and warm that weimmediately felt ourselves again in civilization. Soon Mr. H. , the headmissionary, whom I had already met in Nome, came in with Miss J. , theteacher of the Mission children. She also had spent some days with us atNome. These all made us very welcome, and our party of seven was soonsitting together before a good, smoking hot breakfast, to which we didreal justice. 

When entering the house I had, upon first removing my wraps and"fascinator, " given my friends another surprise equal to the one of themuckluks on the steamer. The day before leaving Nome I had(surreptitiously again) made a visit to the hairdresser, and when I lefther room I appeared another woman. My head now, instead of being coveredwith long, thin hair, done up hastily in a twist at the back, had shorthair and curled all over, a great improvement, they all voted, when thefirst surprise was over. 

My hair, all summer, had been like that of most women when first inAlaska, falling out so rapidly that I feared total baldness if somethingwas not done to prevent. This was the only sure remedy for the trouble, as I knew from former experience, and as I again proved, for it entirelystopped coming out. Ricka soon followed my example, and we, with MissJ. , who had been relieved of her hair by fever the year before, madealmost a colony of short-haired women, much to the amusement of some ofour party. 

After we had eaten our breakfasts, several of us set to work at writingletters to send out to Nome by the "Elk, " which would remain a few hoursunloading freight, as this might be our last opportunity for many weeks, or until the winter mails were carried by dog-teams over the trails. Wefancied our friends on the outside would be glad to hear that we hadarrived safely at Golovin, and our pens flew rapidly over the paper. These letters, finally collected, were placed in the hands of one of the"Elk's" crew for mailing at Nome, and the steamer sailed away. 

Not all, however, wrote letters. The business head of the "Star" firmhad not been idle, nor writing letters, and while I wrote Alma wasdeeply engaged, well seconded by Ricka, in making arrangements with Mr. H. By which we could remain in this Mission House all winter. Beforenoon it was decided that we should stay, assisting the missionaries allin our power until such time as they could move to their new station, assoon as the ice was firm enough in the bay to travel upon and the Homewas far enough toward completion. It was impossible to finish thebuilding now, but so far as practicable it would be made habitable, andall necessary and movable articles of furniture would be carried to theHome, though many large pieces would be left for our use. 

This arrangement included our party of seven, Mary at Nome, and thethree boys at work at this time on the new Home building, and would doaway with all necessity for building a cabin, lumber being expensive andgood logs scarce. 

This intelligence came just in time for insertion in our home letterssent away on the "Elk, " and it was a day of rejoicing for at least sevenpersons (Miss L. Was to go to the Home, but Mary was to come to us fromNome), who already considered themselves a "lucky number. "

CHAPTER XIV. 

LIFE AT GOLOVIN. 

Our first duty after arriving at Golovin was to look up our freight, which seemed to be in a general mix-up. Each person was searching on thebeach and in the warehouse for something. For my part, I was greatlyconcerned over the probable loss of a case of coal oil, and a boxcontaining wool blankets, feather pillow, and other things too preciousto lose after paying freight, especially as some of the articles couldnot be replaced, and all were useful and necessary. The "Elk's" crew haddumped the freight promiscuously upon the frozen sands, consideringtheir duty at that point done, and no assurance was given us that thefreight was all there, or that it was in good condition. The risk wasall ours. We could find it or lose it--that did not concern the "Elk. "As we had no idea as to the honesty of the community in which we hadcome to reside, and little confidence in some of the "Elk's" passengerswho were also receiving freight, we visited the beach a number of timesduring the first two days. While at Nome and packing up to leave I hadremembered the story of the person who, going to market, put all theeggs into one basket, and for that reason, when an accident occurred, she lost the whole lot; while, if she had placed them in two baskets, one-half might have-been saved. For this reason I then packed myblankets in two boxes, and now as one was missing I was glad I had doneso, for to be entering upon a cold, long winter without woolen blanketswould be hard lines indeed. 

The first day was spent by the boys in hauling baggage and freight intothe old school house, near the mission, which was to be our store roomfor a time. This building was made of logs, sod and mud plaster, withsmall doors and windows, and thatched roof, now overgrown with grass andweeds. 

It had long-been deserted, or given over to storing purposes, as the newschool and church building was put up alongside, and was being used atthe present time. We would unpack as little as possible, while theMission family remained, as their house was too small to accommodatecomfortably so many. Mr. H. Was like the old woman who lived in a shoe, for he really had such a family that he was puzzled as to whatdisposition he should make of them. However, the men were all lodged inthe new school building, as it was vacation time, and no session; trunksand baggage, except bedding, were put in the store house. 

The Eskimo children and the women occupied the second floor of themission. Mr. H. Had his room on the first floor, oftentimes shared withsome visiting missionary or friend, and I was the best lodged of all. The big velvet couch in the sitting-room by the fire was allotted to me, and I slept luxuriously, as well as comfortably. The newest and mostmodern article of furniture in the establishment, this couch, was soft, wide, and in a warm, cozy corner of the room. 

From being lodged above a bar-room in Nome, I had come to a parlor inthe Mission, and I was well pleased with the changed atmosphere, as wellas the reduction of charges; for, whereas I had paid five dollars perweek for my small, unfurnished room there, I now paid nothing, exceptsuch help as I could give the women in the house. 

I felt, too, that I had earned, by my hard work during the summer, allthe rest and comfort I could get, and I thoroughly enjoyed the change. Where among the drones and laggards is one who can find such sweets aswell-earned rest and comfort after labor? What satisfaction to feel thejoy all one's own. None assisted in the earning, and consequently noneexpected a division of reward. It was all my own. If this isselfishness, it is surely a refined sort, and excusable. 

I was not, however, the only one in the Mission who enjoyed awell-earned rest. Each one of our party of seven had worked for monthsas hard and harder than I, and all found a vacation as pleasing, whilethe Mission people had the same round of work and as much as they couldaccomplish all the year round. 

The day after our arrival at Golovin was Sunday. The weather was clearand sunny, but cold. We were now not only to have a vacation ourselves, but could give our working clothes a rest as well, and I took greatpleasure in unearthing a good black dress which was not abbreviated asto length, surprising my friends by my height, after being in shortskirts so long. It was really Sunday now, and we wore our Sunday clothesfor the first time in months, not having had an opportunity for Sabbathobservance in the work we had done at Nome. 

To complete our enjoyment of the good day, there was the organ in thesitting-room, and upon my first entering the room, and seeing theinstrument I had drawn a deep sigh of inward delight. To find an organ, yes, two of them, for there was also one standing in the schoolroom, orlittle church, was to feel sure of many bright and happy hours duringthe coming winter, and I felt more than ever that for strangers in theArctic world we were, indeed, highly favored. 

It was not long before I discovered that with at least two of our partyof seven music was a passion, for Ricka, as well as Mr. B. , could neverhave enough, and it was a pleasure to see the real and unaffecteddelight upon their faces when I played. We were really quite wellsupplied with musical instruments, for there were now in the Missiontwo guitars, one mandolin, a violin and a few harmonicas, besides thetwo organs, while as for vocalists everybody sang from Mr. H. Down tothe Eskimo boys, girls and the baby. 

But this day's climax was the three o'clock dinner, prepared by Miss E. Could anything be more restful to three tired restaurant workers than tosit quietly in easy chairs, allow others to prepare the meal and invitethem to partake, without having given a thought to the preparation ofthe same, gaining, as we did, a knowledge of what was coming only by thepleasant odors proceeding from the kitchen? Certainly not, and theincreased appetite that comes with this rest is only a part of theenjoyment. So when we were seated at the table on Sunday, the second dayof our arrival at Golovin, before us fresh roast mutton, baked potatoes, stewed tomatoes, coffee, bread and butter, with pickles, and a mostdelicious soup made of dried prunes, apricots, raisins and tapioca fordessert, we were about the happiest people in Alaska and appreciated itimmensely. What bread Miss E. Did make, with slices as large as saucers, not too thin, snowy, but fresh and sweet. What coffee from the big pot, with Eagle brand cream from the pint can having two small holes in thetop, one to admit air and the other to let the cream out. Nothing hadtasted so good to us since we had come home, as hungry children, fromschool. As then, we were care-free, if only for a little while, and wewere a jolly, happy crowd. 

In the evening, when the children were once in bed, we all gathered inthe sitting-room for music, stories and plans for the future, includingthe placing of a few new strings on the musical instruments and tuningof the same. Mr. H. Had gone to the Home the afternoon before, so therehad been no preaching service as ordinarily in the little schoolhouseacross the road. The boys were talking of going to the Home across thebay next day in a boat, but a wind came up which finally developed intoa stout southwester, and Monday was a most disagreeable day. Alma workedon a fur cap, to practise, she said, on some one before making her own. Ricka mended mittens and other garments for the boys, while I sewed onnight clothes for the little Eskimo baby. 

The child was probably between three and four years old, but nobody knewexactly, for she was picked up on the beach, half dead, a year before, by the missionary, where she was dying of neglect. Her mother was dead, and her grandfather was giving her the least attention possible, so thatshe was sickly, dirty and starved. She had well repaid the kind peoplewho took her into the Mission, being now fat and healthy, as well asquite intelligent. She was a real pet with all the women immediately, being the youngest of this brood of twenty youngsters and having manycunning little ways. In appearance she looked like a Japanese, as, infact, all Eskimos do, having straight black hair, and eyes shaped muchlike those of these people, while all are short and thick of stature, with few exceptions. 

Among this score of little natives there were some who were very bright. All were called by English names, and Peter, John, Mary, Ellen andSusan, as well as Garfield, Lincoln and George Washington, with manyothers, became familiar household words, though the two last named weregrown men, and now gone out from the Mission into houses of their own. 

As to the dressing of these children, it was also in English fashion, except for boots, which were always muckluks, and parkies of fur foroutside garments, including, perhaps, drill parkies for mild weather, orto pull on over the furs, when it rained or snowed, to keep out thewater. As the weather grew more severe, heavy cloth or fur mittens wereworn, and little calico and gingham waists and dresses were discardedfor flannel ones. 

The children, for weeks after our arrival, ran out often to play, bareheaded and without wraps, having frequently to be reminded when theweather was severe, to put them on. In the kitchen they had their owntable, where they were separately served, though at the same time astheir elders at another table in the room. To preserve the health of thelittle ones, not taking entirely away their native foods of seal meatand oil, tom-cod (small fish), reindeer meat and wild game, these werefed to them on certain days of the week, as well as other native dishesdear to the Eskimo palate, but they were well fed at all times, and grewfat and hearty as well as happy. 

As we sewed contentedly in the sitting-room on Monday the stormcontinued, snowing and blowing a gale from the southwest, which, thoughnot disturbing us even slightly, we felt sure would be bad for those atsea and at Nome; our own experiences at that place giving us always alarge sympathy for others in similar plight. Long afterwards we learnedthat in this storm the "Elk" had been blown ashore at Nome, and waspretty thoroughly disabled, if not entirely wrecked, and we wondered ifpoor cook Jim had "done been mighty busy, sah, gittin' tings fixed" eversince. 

When evening came the children and Baby Bessie were put to bed; work, indoors and out, was finished for that day, and we were twelve in thesitting-room, as merry a crowd as one could find in all Alaska. Miss J. Had taken a lesson on the organ in the afternoon and was all interestedin making progress on that instrument, assuring her friends who declaredshe would never practise her lessons, that she certainly would do so, asthey would afterwards learn. 

The winds might sigh and moan, and whirl the falling snow in thedarkness as they liked; waters congeal under the fingers of the frostking, closing the mouth of innumerable creeks, rivers, and bays; buthere under cover we had light, health, warmth and food, without a singlecare. In my cozy, soft bed under the blankets, the firelight playing onthe walls, the fine organ open and ready for use, I lay often with wideopen eyes, wondering if I were myself or another. 

In one corner of the room stood a case containing books enough to supplyus with reading matter for a year, those printed in Swedish being, ofcourse, of no use to me, but a variety of subjects were here presentedin English, ranging from Drummond's "Natural Law in the Spiritual World"to nursery rhymes for the children. Volumes on medicine, law, science, travels, stories, ethics and religion--all were here for the instructionand edification of inmates of the Mission. In another corner there was alarge case of medicines, and here were remedies in powders, liquids, salves and pills, drawers filled with lint, bandages, cotton, and booksof instruction teaching the uses of all. Even surgical instruments werefound here, as well as appliances for emergencies, from broken andfrozen limbs, mad-dog bites, and "capital operations, " to a scratchedfinger or the nose-bleed. 

This outfit was for the use of any and all, without charge, who shouldbe so unfortunate as to require assistance of this sort in this region. Without money and without price, the only case of remedies for manymiles around, this Mission provided for all suffering ones who applied, and during the winter many were relieved and assisted toward recovery. 

In the third corner of this room stood the large cabinet organ, nearlynew, and in good condition. Instruction books, hymnals, "Gospel Hymns, "small collections of words without music, Swedish songs--all were herein abundance. 

The fourth corner contained my couch-bed. A heating stove, made of sheetiron, a table with its pretty spread, a large student lamp, easy chairs, a pretty ingrain rug covering the floor, window shades and lacecurtains, with pictures and Scripture texts upon the wall, completed theroom furnishings, making a homey place, which for years had been a havenof refuge for the homeless Eskimo children. Besides these, it had givenfood, shelter and clothing to many a white-faced wanderer, who camepenniless, hungry and cold, perhaps ill and starving. 

About seven years before this unpretending, now weather-beaten house hadbeen erected, and the kindly little dark-eyed man put in charge was atonce at home. He was blessed with rare versatility and patience, as wellas a great heart of love for all mankind, including the dark-skinned, seal-eating races of the Arctic. 

From a door-latch to a baby's cradle, from a log-house to a sail-boatrigged with runners on the ice, he planned, contrived and executed, principally for others, for years. Here we found, in one room, from hishands a bedstead, a table, and a washstand commode, all made in whitewood, of regulation size, shape and pattern, though without paint orstaining. Relegated now to an upper room, since the velvet couch hadarrived, was a long, wooden settle, with back, ends and sliding seat, the latter to be pushed forward upon legs and made into double bed atnight. 

One day in the winter, when searching for open places under the roofthrough which the snow was sifting, wetting the ceiling of the roombelow, I found in the attic a number of curious things, and among them achild's cradle. Not all the thought of the good man had been given tothe needs of the "grown-ups, " but the small, weak and helpless ones ofhis flock had received their equal share of attention. The cradle waswell made with solid high sides and ends, and curved upper edges, swinging low and easily upon its two strong rockers. All was smooth, well finished, and rounded, though there was no paint nor varnish, thesearticles being doubtless unprocurable and not deemed strictly essential. Near by were the remnants of a white fox robe fitting the cradle. It wasmade of baby fox skin, fine, soft and pretty. A flannel lining with apinked-out edge completed what had once been a lovely cover for baby, whether with white face or black, and I fell to wishing I might haveseen the complete outfit in its former days. 

From the rafters of the attic hung articles of wearing apparel ofcurious make and pattern, sometimes of skins of the wild reindeer orspotted seal. Of old mittens and muckluks there were numbers, stillpreserved for the good they had done or might yet do at piecing outsomewhere. There were things for which I had not yet learned the uses, but might do so before the cold winter had passed. There were also manyfur skins, and new articles of value stored in the attic. 

Tuesday, October twenty-third, the weather was not cold, but snow fellpart of the day, and it grew dark about half-past four in the afternoon. The gale of Monday had subsided, and the sky was overcast. The steamer"Sadie" of the Alaska Commercial Company surprised us by coming intoGolovin, and again suddenly we fell to letter writing in order to sendthem out by her, remaining several hours as she always did to unloadfreight and baggage, for this would positively be our last steamer. Outside the boys worked as industriously as we women. In the oldlog-house, a hundred feet from our door, was the building now used for awoodshed. Here, upon a big "double-decker" saw-buck, two of the boys, with the big saw between them, worked away, hour after hour, at thegreat logs of driftwood brought from the beach, as this was the onlykind of fuel here used, and much was needed for the winter fires. 

When I had finished my work of sewing, and it grew too dark to threadneedles, between that hour and the one for the lamp lighting, I wasusually seated at the organ, and our music was not all Hymns from theHymnals, certainly. There were marches and polkas, and sprightlywaltzes, too, and nothing was ever tabooed, though these classicselections were always omitted on Sunday. None ever minded how long Isat at the organ, or how many times a day a certain piece was played, and a few could never be sated; but I took good care that my work neverlagged, and a duty was never neglected for such pleasure, thereby makingit always the recreation and enjoyable exercise it was intended to beand not tiresome. 

Miss J. Now took a lesson on the instrument each day for a half hourafter the lamps were lighted, and as she had already had a few lessons, and could play a few hymns, she was much interested in acquiring afurther knowledge which would be helpful in church and Sunday schoolservices. Miss E. , too, thought of beginning lessons if she could findtime from her manifold duties as house-mother of the numerous flock, anddid take a few lessons before they moved away. 

In the evening there was always singing, for some were sure to bepresent then, who had been absent during the day. Perhaps Mr. H. Hadarrived with a Christian native from the Home, to spend the night beforegoing back on the morrow, with supplies of some sort for the completionof his new house. He now headed the two establishments and vibratedbetween them, simply camping at the new place and enjoying everything ofhome life possible in the Mission. At jokes and repartee he was as goodas the best of them, and always enjoyed a laugh like the youngest. 

A level head and firm hand had this Swedish missionary of longexperience. From a dozen or more years at Yakutat, in southern Alaska, where he had done invaluable work for that Mission, he had come abouttwo years before to Golovin Bay, and now had, besides the Eskimochildren in that place, over four hundred government reindeer in charge. For these he kept a number of experienced and trusty native drivers, andthese either lived in his Mission or with their families near at hand, as a few of them now were married. 

This herd of animals was kept upon the hills where the reindeer mossgrew in plenty, for they could not, and would not, eat anything else ifthey literally starved to death, and they were now five miles away. Toremove this great family of a score and more with their belongings overthe ice, a distance of twelve miles in winter by dog-team, gettingsettled in a large frame building, unplastered, and upon a bleak, unprotected shore, was an undertaking which would have discouraged mostmen; especially as a shipload of needed supplies for their new Home, including furniture, had been lost at sea, leaving them short of manysuch necessities. But this was not all. The whole reindeer herd andtheir drivers, with their several families, were also to be moved nearthe new Home, and to fresh moss pastures. 

Near the Home was a good-sized creek of fresh and pure water, which ransinging along through the hills to the ocean, and for this reason thesite had been selected and built upon. 

CHAPTER XV. 

WINTER IN THE MISSION. 

The first few garments I made for Little Bessie were not a greatsuccess. I had told Miss E. That I would be delighted to assist her inany way that I could, never dreaming what would come; and she being morein need of warm clothing for the children than anything else, with rollsof uncut flannels, and baskets piled high with materials to be made intounderwear, said immediately that I might help with their sewing. 

She then brought a piece of Canton flannel, and the shears, and put theminto my hands, saying that I might make two pairs of night-trowsers forthe baby. My heart sank within me in a moment. I made a desperate effortto collect myself, however, and quietly asked if she had a pattern. No, she had none. The child, she said, kicked the cover off her in the nightso often, and the weather was growing so cold, that she and Miss J. Thought a garment of the trouser description, taking in the feet at thesame time, would very well answer her needs, and this I was requested tooriginate, pattern and all. Whatever should I do? I could more easilyhave climbed Mt. McKinley! If she had told me to concoct a new pudding, write an essay, or make a trip to Kotzebue, I should not have been somuch dismayed; but to make a garment like that, out of "whole cloth, " soto speak, from my own design--that was really an utter impossibility. 

"O, well, " she said, "I am sure you can do this well enough. It is notsuch a very particular job; just make something in which to keep thechild warm nights, you know. That is all I care for, " kindly added she, as she closed the door behind her and went back to the kitchen. 

Finally I appealed to Alma. She was busy. She had never cut out anythingof the sort, neither had Ricka nor Miss L. , but I being a married womanwas supposed to have a superior knowledge of all such things. I admittedthat I might have a theory on the subject, but a "working hypothesis, "alas, I had none. 

Still I hung around Alma, who was an expert dressmaker of years'standing in San Francisco. 

"No, I can't cut them out, really; but why don't you make a pattern fromsome garment on hand?"

Here was an idea. Something to build upon. 

"But there are the feet, and the waist?" I said still anxiously. 

"O, build them on to your pattern, " she said carelessly; as if anyonewith half an eye and one hand could do that sort of building, and sheleft the room for more important matters. 

There was nothing else for me to do. I secured a suit of the baby'sclothing throughout, and, taking the cloth, the shears, and an oldnewspaper, I went upstairs to Miss J. 's room and closed the door. Iwanted to be alone. I longed to have my dear old mother there for justone short hour, for in that time I felt certain she would have cut outthese as well as other garments, enough to keep us for weeks sewing, asher own babies had kept her at one time. 

However, there was no help for me, and I went to work. For an hour I cutand whittled on that old newspaper, along with a number of others, before I got a pattern that I fancied might do. Then I submitted it toMiss J. Herself, who told me to go ahead and cut it out. It appeared allright, so far as she could see. Then I cut, and basted, and tried thegarment on Bessie. It was too wide across the chest, too short in thelegs, and the feet were monstrosities. What was to be done, I asked ofthe others?

"Make new feet, and sew them on around the ankle, " said Miss J. , thoughtfully, surveying her little charge from all sides, as the childstood first on one foot, then on the other, "then you can lengthen thelegs a little if you want to, " careful not to offend by criticisingabruptly, but still feeling that the height of the gearing should beincreased. 

"Dear me, that's easy enough, " suggested Alma, "just put a wide boxplait down the front, like that in a shirtwaist, and it will be allright. "

"The back can be taken out in the placket, " and Ricka folded and lappedthe cloth on the little child's shoulders, and then we called Miss E. From the kitchen. After making a few suggestions in a very conservativeway, as if they did not come readily because the garment was just aboutright; she left the room hastily, saying her bread would burn in theoven; and I thought I heard her giggling with Miss L. In Swedish untilshe ran away out into the woodshed, ostensibly for an armful of wood;though if her bread were already burning I wondered what she wanted ofmore fire. 

I did not blame her; I laughed too. The little child looked exceedinglyfunny as she stood there in that wonderful garment, with black eyesshining like beads, and face perfectly unsmiling, as she nearly alwayslooks, wondering why it was we were laughing. 

October twenty-fourth the boys worked all day at making the house morecomfortable for winter, nailing tar paper upon the north side, wheresome clapboards were missing, putting on storm or double windows outsideof the others, and filling the cracks with putty. A couple of the boysalso worked at hauling supplies of apples and potatoes from thewarehouse by dog-team, putting the eatables into the cellar under thekitchen, which was well packed in with hay. This cellar was a rude one, and in summer frequently filled with water from the surface and the hillabove the house, making it not altogether wholesome at times, but bymanagement, it was still being used for some things, and of course, incold weather, it made no difference, for everything was solidly frozen. 

Snow enough had fallen by this time, a little coming quietly down everyfew hours, to make fair roads for the sleds, the ground being quitehard; while Fish River and adjoining creeks were fast freezing over, aswere also the waters of the bay. 

In the evening Mr. H. Came in, and we all gathered in the sitting room, some sewing, some mending, but all chatting pleasantly. The missionaryhad just been informed, he told us, of a gold strike on the KuskokquimRiver, some one having only recently returned from St. Michael, andbrought the report. From that place men were leaving for the newdiggings each day, and it might or might not prove a bona fide strike. With reindeer, on a good winter trail, this distance would not be aformidable trip, Mr. H. Told us. 

This was the information we wanted to hear, and it probably started atrain of golden dreams that night in more than one head, which was longin stopping, especially when he informed us that every acre of landaround us was then staked out in quartz claims, though no extensiveprospecting had yet been done, and we were pleased at finding ourselves"so near" even though we were "yet so far. "

Today was a birthday for Mr. G. , and he was teased unmercifully for hisage, but would not give it, so those who had known him the longest triedtheir best to figure it out from incidents in his life and fromnarratives of his own, and made it out to their satisfaction as aboutthirty-two years, though he refused (like a woman) to the very last, totell them if they were guessing correctly. 

The next day it still snowed a little at intervals between clouds andsunshine, and all "tenderfeet" were more comfortable indoors. Miss E. And Ricka had gone the day before with the boys and Mr. H. To the Homeon a scow-load of lumber, though we feared it was pretty cold for themwithout shelter on the water; but with the wind in the right direction, they wanted to attempt it, and so started. They were to look the newbuilding over for the first time, Miss E. Being much interested in theinside arrangement of rooms, naturally, as it was to be her home andfield of labor, and rightly thinking a womanly suggestion, perhaps, might make the kitchens more handy. 

In their absence the rest of us continued our sewing, Miss L. TakingMiss E. 's place in the kitchen, with help from the larger Eskimo girlsat dish washing. The latter were docile and smiling, and one little girlcalled Ellen was always exceedingly careful to put each cup and saucer, spoon and dish in its proper place after drying it, showing acommendable systematic instinct, which Miss E. Was trying to foster. 

Between times, their school not yet being in session, they played about, either up in their rooms if it was too stormy outside, or out of doorsif the weather permitted; though, for that matter, they seldom hesitatedto do anything they wished on account of the weather, as it was not socold to the natives as to us. They played with balls, both large andsmall, and sleds of all descriptions; and if the latter were not to behad, or all in use, a barrel stave or board would be made to answer thesame purpose. It was a rush past the window down the hill, first by apair of muckluked feet, then a barrel stave and a boy, sometimes littlePete, and sometimes John. One barrel stave would hold only one coaster, and there were usually enough for the boys, but if by chance the littlegirls laid hands upon the sleds before they did, the staves were thentheir only resource. If a child rolled, by accident, upon the ground, itnever seemed to matter, for in furs he was well protected. The snow wassoft, and he, being as much at home there as anywhere, seemed rather tolike it. 

If he was seen to fall, it was the signal for some other to roll andtumble him, keeping him under as long as possible, and it was a frequentsight to see three or four small boys tumbling about like kittens, locked in each other's arms, and all kicking and shoutinggood-naturedly. Snowballing, too, was their delight, and their ballswere not always velvety, either, as the one stopping its course couldaffirm. 

These children did little quarreling. I cannot remember seeing Eskimoboys angry or fighting, a thing quite noticeable among them, for nowherein the world, perhaps, could the same number of white children be foundliving so quietly and harmoniously together as did these twelve littledark-faced Eskimos in the Mission. 

Our days were now growing much shorter, and it was necessary to lightthe lamps at four o'clock in the afternoon, the sun having set some timebefore. The sunset skies were lovely in bright and tender colors, reflecting themselves as they did in the water of the bay, and tintingdelicately all surrounding hilltops. What a beautiful sight it was, andhow sadly we remembered that very soon the water would have disappearedunder the solid ice, there to remain for long months imprisoned. Littledid we then know that the heavenly beauty of the Arctic sky is neverlacking, but close upon the departure of one season, another, no lessbeautiful, takes its place. 

Diary of October twenty-sixth: Alma and I called today upon twoneighbors in the old schoolhouse next the church, by name Dr. H. Andwife. They claim to have come from Dawson not very long ago, beingshipwrecked on the way, and losing their outfit. She seems a chatty, pleasant little body, and inclined to make the best of everything, herhard lot included, and she is baking and selling bread to the miners. She is a brave little woman, and could teach many a pampered andhelpless one lessons of great usefulness and patience. Miss L. Is illwith quincy and suffering very much, so Alma makes the bread. 

I have just made four large aprons for Miss J. , cutting them out andmaking them, and they look really well, so I am quite proud of myself, especially as Ricka has "set up" my knitting on needles for me, and I amgoing to make some hose. I usually knit evenings, between times at theorgan, for my new yarn received from San Francisco is very nice, andwill make warm winter stockings. 

Saturday, October twenty-seventh: We have four inches of snow on theground, and more coming. Miss L. Is quite ill with her throat, and didnot get up today. Alma, too, is very pouty, with a swollen, pudgy face, and feels badly. They both say they think they took cold coming fromNome on the "Elk, " and I don't doubt it, for I would have done so myselfonly for my great caution in taking care of my newly shingled head andin applying a thorough dose of fur muckluks to my feet, but, thanks tothem, I am the most "chipper" one at present. 

Miss J. Had Dr. H. Examine Bessie today, and he says she has bronchitis, but told the teacher what to do for her. 

The two girls came back from the Home with Mr. H. And Mr. L. About fouro'clock after we had begun to be worried about them. They were hungry, and Alma and I got dinner for them, when Mr. H. Started back immediatelyin a small boat alone, after it had begun to grow dark. We begged himnot to attempt it, but he insisted on going, as he must be theretomorrow to push the work on the building, and the ice is floating, sohe fears it will freeze the bay over. The sun shone out beautifully forthree or four hours, and it is just one week today since we landed inGolovin, a most pleasant week to us all (pattern making not included). 

Later. --I helped with the housework and made two more aprons for Miss J. There is nothing like feeling of some use in the world, is there?

Sunday, October twenty-eight: A clear, bright morning, growing cloudyabout noon, and dark at four in the afternoon, when lamps were lighted. We had a long, restful day indoors, both Miss E. And Ricka being verylame from their long walk of fifteen miles over the stony beach andtundra covered hills from the Home, Mr. H. 's boat being too small forfour persons. By water the distance is called a dozen miles, but by landand on foot it is much farther, as the girls have found by sadexperience; and they were very glad it was Sunday, and they could rest. Miss E. Said laughingly that we would play we were at home in the Statesagain, and so she spread the breakfast table daintily in thesitting-room, with white cover, pretty embroidered centre-piece, andsnowy napkins, bringing real comfort to our hearts, accustomed as we hadbeen for so many months to bare necessities and none of the luxuries. Afashionable breakfast hour for Sunday in the States was also affected inorder to make the plan complete, and because the mornings, growingdarker as they are continually doing, nobody felt in haste to leavetheir beds. Of course every one wore his Sunday clothes and I put on myvery best waist of olive green satin with a good black skirt, which hada little train, thereby effectively hiding my uncouth feet, still cladas they are in the ungainly muckluks. 

The ice is moving in the bay, and we hear that still another steamer maycome in, so we can send mail out to Nome, and write to have inreadiness. There have been no church services today, as Mr. H. Is awayat the Home, but we had music and singing frequently, and Swedish hymnsall evening, which I play, but do not understand. 

Monday, October twenty-ninth: This has been a bright, sunny morninguntil a little after noon, when it grew cloudy, as it often does. MissE. Was still very lame from her long tramp of last Saturday, and Rickaand I assisted in the kitchen. Alma has cut out a pretty brown clothdress for Miss J. And is making it. Miss L. 's throat is better, and sheis out of her room again, after a siege of severe suffering withquinsy, which caused a gathering. About nine in the evening Mr. H. Camein from the Home, having walked the whole distance, a boat being nowunsafe in the floating ice. After drinking some hot coffee, he relatedto us his adventure of Friday night in the Peterborough canoe. He hadleft us quite late in the afternoon of that day to go to the Home, andit was already beginning to grow dark. For a while, he said, he foundopen water, and made good time at the paddle, but presently foundhimself alongside of and soon after crowded by floating ice. 

It was young ice, and he did not have much fear of it. He kept onpaddling, but finally found himself entirely surrounded, and manage ashe would, he could not free his canoe. A breeze came up from the north, which pushed him along with the ice out toward sea, for he was near themouth of the bay. There was nothing to do but wait. For an hour hewaited. 

It was well on towards midnight, and he could see no escape. Themissionary, in relating the incident to us, did not dwell upon this partof his story, but he said he had given himself up for lost, and onlyprayed and waited. By and by the breeze died away, the ice quietlyparted, and drifted away from him, and he paddled safely ashore. 

Tuesday, October thirty: A brand new experience today--that of watchingthe natives and others fish through the ice. Little holes are made inthe ice, which is now quite strong in the north end of the bay near thecliff, and the Eskimos sit there patiently for hours, fishing fortom-cod. These are small fish, but quite tasty, one of the principalmeans of subsistence for the natives, and are also much used by others. No pole is needed on the line except a short one of three or four feet, and when a bite is felt by the fisherman, the line is quickly drawn out, given a sudden twitch, which frees the tom-cod, and he is summarilydispatched with a few raps from the fishing stick kept at hand for thepurpose. 

Several river boats, including small steamers, are laid up under thecliff for the winter, dismantled of loose gear and light machinery, andI did get a few views which should prove of some value. The weather wasgood all day, the sun setting at three in the afternoon, and it beingnearly dark an hour later. Mr. H. Dressed himself from top to toe infurs, hitched three dogs to a sled, took a lunch for himself, a fewsupplies of eatables for the Home camp to which he was going, andstarted out, on a longer, but we trusted a less venturesome anddangerous route than by Peterborough canoe. Our evening was pleasantly, and at the same time more or less profitably spent by our party in thesitting-room, Alma sewing on Miss J. 's new dress, Ricka and I knitting, and the others either mending or busying themselves at something. Thissomething frequently covers a good deal of ground, for with one or twoof the boys it means pranks or roguishness of some sort, which reallyenlivens the whole household and keeps our risibles from growing rustyby disuse. 

Wednesday, October thirty-one: I find no difficulty in running thesewing machine here, which is a new and good one, and I like to use itvery well. Just how they could get along without it is more than I cantell, with so much sewing to do for each of the children, not to mentionthe others who are waiting to come into the Mission at the earliestpossible moment. During the day Mr. L. Busied himself usefully inseveral ways as he always does, and finally mended Miss J. 's guitar. After supper we counted ourselves and found six women and a lot ofchildren, but he was the only man in the establishment, the others beingat the Home, and we hazed him considerably, all of which was taken mostgood-naturedly. The bay is freezing more and more each day, with anincreasing depth of snow upon the ground. 

A very unpleasant day as to weather was Friday, November second. Snow, high tide, and wind from the south, which blew the water further yetupon the beach; but we sewed all day, though I did not get muchaccomplished. I gave Miss E. Her first lesson on the organ today. Almais making herself a new dress skirt, as she has Miss J. 's wool dressnearly finished, and it looks exceedingly well, fitting, as some oneremarks, "like the paper on the wall. " Alma likes dressmaking, and doesit well, but draws the line at baby clothes. 

Each day Miss J. , the teacher, is now holding a little prayer meeting inthe kitchen for the natives. When the supper is cleared away, one of theboys goes out and rings the bell, which is only a big, iron trianglehung under three posts in the ground. A piece of iron is picked up andput through the triangle, hitting it on both sides, and making aringing, vibrating sound which calls in the natives, who comeimmediately, just as they are, and range themselves on the benches alongthe walls. Those who can sing sit at the long table upon which are thelamps and English song books, those used being principally Gospel songs. One of the grown boys called Ivan is a very fair singer, and loves musicof all kinds. He is the interpreter for all meetings, understandingEnglish and speaking it quite well. None of the Eskimos are taughtSwedish--nothing but English. 

Miss J. Reads a song which she wishes them to learn, and Ivan interpretsit into Eskimo, verse by verse, afterwards singing it. Tunes are learnedmore quickly than words, but they get the meaning from Ivan. Then MissJ. Reads the Scripture, Ivan interpreting verse by verse. She nextoffers prayer in English, and calls upon some older native Christian topray in his language, after which they sing several songs with whichthey are familiar. Having selected beforehand some passage from theBible, she reads and expounds that, being interpreted by Ivan; there isa short benediction and the meeting is over. They seem to like very wellto come, and are never eager to go, but say little, not being greattalkers, even in their own tongue. 

When the last Eskimo has departed, and the children are settled in bed, the cozy hour of the day has arrived. For a good, old-fashioned tale oflove, fright and adventure, there is no time like a winter's night, whenthe wind shrieks down the chimney and whirling snow cuddles into cornersand crannies. When supper is over, and the kitchen is well cleared, thewomen of the house may take their yarn and bright needles, while the mentoast their feet at the fire and spin--other yarns, without needles, which are, perhaps, not so essential, but far more entertaining tolisteners. 

This is what we did that winter at Chinik, the home of the Eskimo, inthat far away spot near the Arctic Sea. There were tales of the Norsemenand Vikings, told by their hardy descendants sitting beside us, as wellas the stories of Ituk and Moses, the aged, called "Uncle, " PunniChurah, big Koki, and "Lowri. "

To the verity of the following narrative all these and many others canwillingly vouch. 

CHAPTER XVI. 

THE RETIRED SEA CAPTAIN. 

Many years ago, close under the shadow of old Plymouth Rock, there wasborn one day a fair-skinned, blue-eyed baby. Whether from heredity, orenvironment, or both, the reason of his spirit will perhaps neverplainly appear, but as the child grew into manhood he seemed filled withthe same adventurous aspirations which had actuated his forefathers, causing them to leave their homes in old England, and come to foreignshores. Scarcely had he passed into his teens before he was devouringtales of pirates, and kindred old sea yarns, and his heart was firedwith ambition to own a vessel and sail the high seas. Not that hethirsted for a pirate's life, but a seafaring man's adventures he longedfor and decided he must have. 

Under these conditions a close application at his desk in the villageschool was an unheard-of consequence; and, having repeatedly smartedunder the schoolmaster's ferule, not to mention his good mother'sswitches plucked from the big lilac bush by her door, he decided to runaway to the great harbor, and ship upon some vessel bound for a foreignland. 

This he did. Then followed the usual hard, rough life of a boy amongsailors in distant ports; the knotted rope's end, the lip blackeninglanguage and curses, storms, shipwrecks and misfortunes; all followed asa part of the life so hastily chosen by the adventurous young lad, untilhe acquired familiarity with all that appertained thereto, and he was aman. 

Years passed. To say that fortune never came to him would not be true, because she is always a fickle dame, and cannot change her character forsailor men. So it came about that he finally stood on the captain'sbridge of different sorts of craft, and gave orders to those beneathhim. 

And a typical sea captain was he. Gruff when occasion required, rollicking as any when it pleased him, he was generous to a fault, and aman of naturally good impulses. If he drank, he was never tipsy; if heswore, he always had reason; and thus he excused himself when he thoughtof his good old mother's early Bible teaching. 

From Montevideo to Canton, from Gibraltar to San Francisco, from Cape ofGood Hope to the Arctic Ocean; thus ran his itinerary year after year. Crossing Behring Strait from Siberia in the summer of 18--, he landed, with his little crew, at Cape Prince of Wales, for the purpose oftrading with the natives. The furs of the animals of this region werefound to be exceptionally fine, thick and glossy, and the Eskimos easilyparted with them. For flour, tobacco and woolen cloth they willinglygave their furs to the sailors, who looked admiringly upon the skins ofthe polar bear, sea otter, beaver, silver, black and white fox, as wellas those of many other animals. These furs were sold in San Francisco, and other trips were made to the Arctic Northwest. 

Along the south coast of the Seward Peninsula there are few bays ornatural harbors. Golovin Bay is one of them. Here for many years theEskimos have subsisted upon the fine fish and game. The flesh and oilsof the white whale, seal and walrus being principally sought for, thenatives came to this bay from all directions. 

After many years of wandering, and when the ambitions of the captain fora seafaring life had been satisfied, an incident occurred which changedthe current of his life and decided him to settle permanently at GolovinBay. 

During his visits on the peninsula his attention had been directed to abright and intelligent young Eskimo woman, lithe and lively, a goodswimmer, trapper and hunter. Like a typical Indian, she had a clear, keen eye, steady nerves and common sense. She was a good gunner andseldom missed her mark. She was fearless on land or sea, loved her freeout-door life, and was a true child of nature. Her name was Mollie. 

One day in the early springtime, nearly a dozen years ago, when thewinter's ice was still imprisoned in the bays and sounds of BehringSea, though the warm sun had for weeks been shining and already seamsappeared upon the ice in many places, the captain attempted the trip bydog-team from St. Michael to Golovin Bay. With him were four trustynatives, and three dog-teams, the animals being of the hardy Eskimobreed, and well-nigh impervious to cold, their long, thick hair makingan effective protection. 

His men were experienced, knowing the country perfectly, including aknowledge of winter trails and methods of traveling such as all Eskimospossess, and though the weather was not just what the captain might havewished, he decided to make the start, and left St. Michael in good shapefor the long trip. The strong sleds with high-back handle bar and railedsides were firmly packed with freight, which was securely lashed down. The dogs were driven in pairs, eleven to a sled, the eleventh being ineach case a fine leader and called such, besides having his own Eskimoname, as did also the four men who were warmly dressed in furs from headto foot. These natives were familiar with little English, but as thecaptain had made himself acquainted with their language they had nodifficulty in making each other understood. 

Early in the evening of that day they reached the Mission station ofUnalaklik, on the mainland, about fifty miles northeast of the island, where they spent the night. In this settlement were white traders, aswell as missionaries and numbers of Eskimos, it being an old port ofconsiderable importance. 

In the cold grey morning light Punni Churah and the men called to themalemutes, patting their furry heads and talking kindly to them, formany a weary, long mile of snow trail stretched northward for them thatday before they could rest and eat. Only at night, when their day's workwas done, were these faithful creatures ever fed on seal, fish, whale, or walrus meat, for otherwise they would be drowsy, and not willing totravel; so they were called early from their snow beds in a drift orhollow, where they liked best to sleep, and made ready for the start. 

Dressed in their squirrel skin parkies, with wide-bordered hoods upontheir heads, reindeer muckluks on their feet and mittens of skin upontheir hands, stood Ah Chugor Ruk, Ung Kah Ah Ruk, Iamkiluk and PunniChurah, long lashed whips in hand, and waiting. 

On one of the sleds, dressed and enveloped in furs, sat the captain, before giving the order to start. At the word from him, the dogs sprangto their collars, the little bells jingled, and away they all dashed. Team after team, over the well-trodden trail they went, keeping up acontinuous and sprightly trot for hours, while behind at the handle barsran the natives, and rocks, hills and mountains were passed allunnoticed. 

That night another Eskimo village was reached, and sixty miles of snowtrail were left behind. Shaktolik lay on the shore southeast of aportage which would have to be made over a small point of land juttingout into Norton Bay. 

During the night a storm came up which would necessarily much impedetheir progress, being called in the western world a "blizzard. " Thisstorm fiend, once met, is never forgotten. None but the man in theArctic has seen him. None know so well how to elude him. Like a Peele, or a "tremblor" this Arctic king gathers his forces, more mighty thanarmies in battle, and sweeps all opponents before him. To resist meansdeath. To crouch, cower or bow down to this implacable lord of the polarworld is the only way to evade his wrath when he rides abroad, and woeto the man who thinks otherwise. 

Not long had the wind and snow been blowing when the little trainprepared to move. Ahead they could see the sled tracks of other"mushers" (travelers by dog-team), and the captain concluded to hurryalong, notwithstanding that Ah Chugor Ruk shook his head, and spattobacco juice upon the ground, and Ung Kah Ah Ruk demurred stoutly infew words. Punni Churah thought as the rest, but would go ahead if thecaptain so ordered, and they headed northwest for the portage. 

On the dogs trotted for hours. The snow and sleet were blinding, thewind had risen to a gale. The dogs traveled less rapidly now, and theirfaces were covered with frost, the moisture freezing as they breathed. 

By this time the natives wanted to camp where they were, or head aboutnortheast for another Eskimo village called Ungaliktulik, which wouldmake the journey longer by twenty-five miles, but the captain decided tokeep on as they were going. 

By the middle of the afternoon the gale had increased to fury, causingthe thermometer to fall with great rapidity, while the snow wasblinding. The dogs were curling up in the wind like leaves before ablaze. 

Ah Chugor Ruk was ahead with his team. His leader suddenly halted. 

"Muk-a-muk!" cried the Eskimo. 

"Muk!" echoed Punni Churah, running up alongside to look, and then backto the captain's sled, where he shouted something loudly in order to beheard above the storm. 

An ice crack crossed their trail. There was no help for it. There itlay, dark and cold--the dreaded water. 

In the blinding blizzard they could not see the width of the chasm. Itwas too wide for them to bridge; it was death to remain where theywere--they must turn back, and they did so. The wind was not now intheir faces as before, which made traveling some easier, but they hadnot gone far when: "Muk-a-muk!" from Punni this time, who was ahead. 

Again the dogs stopped. Again Punni Churah came back, and reported. 

They were adrift on a cake of ice. Wind from the northeast was blowing ahurricane, carrying them on their ice cake directly out to sea; but thesnow was drifting in hummocks, and in one of them the natives begandigging a hole for a hut. When this was of sufficient size, they pitcheda sled cover of canvas over it, made the sleighs fast outside, andcrawled underneath. Once inside their temporary igloo, they made a fireof white drilling and bacon, taken from the sled loads of merchandise;melted snow for water, and boiled coffee, being nearly famished. Thenfor hours they all slept heavily, the dogs being huddled together in thesnow, as is their habit, but the blizzard raged frightfully, and drovethe dogs nearer the men in the hut. 

Crawling upon the canvas for more warmth, the poor, freezing creatures, struggling for shelter, with the weight of their bodies caused the hutto collapse, and all fell, in one writhing heap, upon the heads of theunfortunates below. Howling, barking, struggling to free themselves fromthe tangle, the pack of brutes added torment to the lot of the men; butthe storm raged with such terrific force that all lay as they fell, until morning, under the snow. 

None now disputed the storm king's sway. All were laid low before him. With the united fury of fiends of Hades, he laughed in demoniacal gleeat the desperation of the Arctic travelers under his heel. The wholeworld was now his. Far from the icy and unknown wastes of the interior, around the great Circle and Rockies, riding above the heads of riversand mountains, he came from the Koyuk and Koyukuk. Like a child at play, as if weary of so long holding them in his cold embrace, he drove themassive ice floes out into ocean, only, perhaps, in childish fitfulness, to bring them back directly, by gales quite contrary. 

When morning dawned, the captain and his men crawled out of the crushedsnow hut, and, with hard work, made a new cave in the snow drift, burying the sleighs in the old one. The dogs were starving, and, toappease their appetites, were purloining bacon from the sled's stores;but Providence, for once, was kind to them, and a large, fat seal ofseveral hundred pounds weight was shot that day on the edge of the icecake upon which they were camped, and this gave them food and fuel. Dogsand natives were then well fed on the fresh seal meat and blubber, theirnatural and favorite viands. From tin dishes upon the sleds, the nativesmade little stoves, or lamps, using drilling for wicks, seal oil forfuel, and their coffee was made. Among the stores on the sleds werecanned goods, beans, sausages, flour and other things, and on these thecaptain subsisted. 

Day after day passed. The storm gradually died away, and the sun cameout. Then watches were set to keep a lookout, and the captain took histurn with his men. Walking about in the cold morning air, he could seethe mainland to the northwest, many miles away, and his heart sankwithin him. Would he ever put his foot upon that shore again? How longcould they live on the ice cake if they floated far out in the BehringSea? To him the outlook was growing darker each day, though the nativesseemed not to be troubled. 

Nearly two weeks passed. One night the captain was awakened by a hand onhis shoulder. It was Ung Kah Ah Ruk. The wind, he said, was blowingsteadily from the southwest, and if it continued they might be able toreach the shore ice and the mainland. Anxiously together then theywatched and waited for long, weary hours, getting the sleds loaded, andin readiness for a start; then, with bitterest disappointment, theyfound the wind again changed to the southwest, which would carry themout to sea as before. 

What were they to do? This might be their best and only chance toescape. The shore ice lay near them, but, as yet, beyond their reach. This treacherous wind might continue for days and even weeks. Fromexperience they knew that the wind blew where he listed, regardless ofthe forlorn creatures under him, and with the thermometer at fortydegrees below zero, as it was, swimming was out of the question. Thecrack appeared a dozen or so feet in width, and escape was onlypossible by reaching the other side. 

Their strait was a desperate one. The captain decided to make the leap. Removing his furs, he rolled them tightly, and threw them across thechasm. It was now a positive dash for life, as without his furs he wouldsoon perish with the cold. 

He made the run and leaped. At that instant one of the natives, fromintense interest, or from a desire to assist, gave a loud Eskimo whoop, which startled the captain, and he missed his footing, falling forwardupon the ice, but with his lower limbs in the water. 

The natives now bestirred themselves and threw to the captain a largehunting knife and rifle, attached to their long sled lashings. With agood deal of exertion, the captain crawled upon the ice, and with theknife he chopped a hole, and inserted the rifle barrel, fastening thelashings to it and holding it firmly in place. The natives then pulledwith united strength on the line, bringing the ice cake slowly up towardthe captain until within a few feet of the shore ice, when, using a sledfor a bridge, they and the dogs crossed safely over, without so much aswetting their feet. To all, this was a matter for great rejoicing, andno regretful farewells were given to the ice floe which had been theirprison house so long. They were not yet out of danger, however, for theshore ice upon which they stood might, in the gale, at any moment beloosened and carry them, like the other, out into the ocean. So with allhaste possible, they proceeded to get away. Punni Churah brought thecaptain's fur sleeping bag and robes, in which he was stowed away in oneof the sleds, though his wet clothing was now frozen. There was no timenor place to make a change, with the thermometer nearly forty degreesbelow zero. 

Hours afterward they reached the mainland. How good once more to stepfoot on terra firma! The dogs barked, and the natives hallooedcheerfully to each other, for they were now going home. A desertednative village was soon entered, an igloo in passable condition takenpossession of, and the dogs tied up for the night. 

The natives now worked rapidly and cheerfully, two putting up their campstove, another bringing snow for water with which to make the coffee, and Punni Churah looking after the captain, who tried to remove hisclothing, but to no purpose. Muckluks and trousers were frozen together, and as fast as the ice melted sufficiently they were cut away. Contraryto his expectations, he was not severely frozen, a white patch, the sizeof his hand, appearing upon each limb above the knee. With these theydid the best they could, and dry clothing from the sleds was put on. 

Their supper that night was a feast of rejoicing. They were now on thehome trail, and would soon be among friends. One more day of travel andtheir long, hazardous, and eventful trip of two hundred miles over anArctic waste would be successfully accomplished. As they rolledthemselves in their furs at midnight for a few hours of needed rest andsleep, they could almost fancy themselves at home again and happy. Thedogs huddled in the snow outside, now and then barking in their usualway, but the tired men in the igloo did not hear them, for their sleepwas oblivion, after the strain of the last two weeks. 

Next morning, after traveling for several hours, a halt was made, and alunch was taken in an Eskimo camp; but the captain, by this time, wassuffering from exposure and frosted limbs, the trail was bad, and heconcluded to hurry on ahead of the teams. The way was familiar, and onlyone low mountain, called the Portage, was to be crossed. It was early inthe day, and his teams would follow immediately; so on his snowshoes thecaptain hastened toward home. 

God help the man who travels alone in the Arctic in winter! Littlematters it if the sun shines brightly at starting, and the sky appearsclear as a summer pool. In one short hour the aspect of all may bechanged, heavens overcast, snow flying, and wind rapidly driving. Underthe gathering darkness and whirling snowflakes the narrow trail is soonobscured, or entirely obliterated, the icy wind congeals the traveler'sbreath and courage simultaneously, he becomes confused and goes roundand round in a circle, until, benumbed by the frost, he sinks down todie. This was what now happened to the captain. 

Another storm was upon him when he reached the hill portage, and as heexpected his natives momentarily, and beyond this point the trail wasgood, so that he could ride behind the dogs, he waited until they shouldcome up to him. Hour after hour he waited. Night came on, and theblizzard increased in severity. Hungry, cold and already frost-bitten, he must spend the night on the mountain alone. Still he listened for thebells on the malemutes, and the calls of his Eskimo drivers. 

They did not come. Nothing but snow, and the shriek of that storm kingwhose rage he had so recently encountered while drifting to sea on theice floe, and from whom only cruelty was ever expected, now whistled inhis ears. 

He knew he must keep on walking, so removing his snowshoes he stuck onein the snow drift and fastened a seal rope at the top. Taking the end ofthis in his hand, he circled round and round for hours to keep himselfmoving. At last he grew weary, and closed his eyes, still walking asbefore. It was more pleasant to keep his eyes closed, for then he sawvisions of bright, warm rooms, blazing fires and cozy couches, andsmelled the odors of appetizing foods. There were flowers, sweet musicand children, and he was again in far-off sunny lands. 

He grew drowsy. He would only rest a little in a soft white drift, andthen go on again. Making a place in the bank with the snowshoe, whilethe wind whistled horribly and the whirling snow bewildered him, he laydown to----

Some men, one night, drove their dog-teams into Chinik. They had comefrom St. Michael, two hundred miles over the trail. They said thecaptain and his party left there many days before them, and by this theywere surely dead, unless drifted out to sea, which really meant the samething, as no man could live upon the ice during the recent greatblizzard. An Eskimo woman heard what they said. She was a cousin toPunni Churah, but she said nothing. 

An hour later, the woman and two men with dogs and sleds left Chinik forthe Portage, going east. It was storming, but it was not dark, and theyknew each foot of the way. At first, on the level, the woman rode in oneof the sleds, but when it grew hilly, she trudged behind. Her sharp eyesnow keenly searched every dark or obscure spot along the hillside trail. The wind lessened somewhat, and the moon came out behind the clouds. 

The dogs finally stopped, throwing back their heads and howling; then, in more excitement, gave the short, quick bark of the chase. 

The natives began poking about with sticks in the drifts, and Mollie(for it was she) soon found the unconscious man in the snow. 

Quick work then they made of the return trip. They were only a few milesfrom home now, and the malemutes seemed to comprehend. Every nerve intheir bodies tingled. Every tiny bell on their harnesses jingled, andthe fleet-footed natives sped rapidly behind. The dogs needed noguidance, for they were going home, and well knew it. The voice of bigItuk, as he gave out his Eskimo calls, the sleigh-bells, and the creakof the sled runners over the frosty snow, were the only sounds heard onthe clear morning air. 

The life of the captain was saved. 

The sequel of his story is not long. With the best care known to anative woman, brought up near and inside a Mission station, the captainwas tended and brought back to life, though weeks passed before he waswell. In fact, he was never strong again, and, needing a life-longnurse, decided, with Mollie's consent, to take her for his wife, and sothe missionary married them. Then they settled permanently at GolovinBay, where a trading post was already established, and where they areliving happily to this day. 

CHAPTER XVII. 

HOW THE LONG DAYS PASSED. 

On Saturday, November third, began a great sewing of fur caps, children's clothes, and also garments for the teacher. For the caps, apattern had to be made before beginning, but Alma and not I did it. About four in the afternoon Mr. H. , Mr. G. And Mr. B. Came in from theHome, having worked all day at collecting driftwood as they came along, piling it upon end so it will not be buried in the snow, for that is theonly fuel we will have this winter, and it must be gathered and hauledby the boys. 

While in the sitting room after supper three gentlemen and the wife ofone of them called to spend the evening from the A. E. Company'sestablishment. One was the manager and head of the company's store here, another was his clerk, and the man and his wife were neighbors. 

We soon found out that the young clerk had been up the Koyuk Riverprospecting, and wanted to go again. The boys want to go therethemselves, and we gathered considerable information from our callersregarding the country, manner of getting there, the best route, etc. , and spent a pleasant evening, as they seemed also to do. 

Sunday, November fourth, was marked as the first time of holding churchservice in the schoolhouse since our arrival, and a good number werepresent. Twenty-two Eskimos and ten white people made a cozy littleaudience for Mr. H. And his interpreter, Ivan. I played the organ, andthey all sang from Gospel songs. For some reason a lump would come up inmy throat when I played the old home songs that I had so many timesplayed under widely differing circumstances, thousands of miles away;but under the current of sadness there was one also of thanksgiving forprotection and guidance all the way. 

It was a motley crowd listening to the preacher that day, from variousand widely separated countries, Sweden, Norway, Finland, United States, Alaska and possibly some others, were represented at this service aswell as at the one of the evening held in the Mission House which neededno extra lights nor warming. A few more natives came in at this time, and Mollie, the captain's wife, was there with her mother. Again Iplayed the instrument, while the rest sang. The little sitting-room andhall were crowded, seats having been brought in from the kitchen, andsome were standing at the doors. One old Eskimo woman seemed in deeptrouble, for she wiped her eyes a great deal, and she, with some others, were very dirty, at least if odors tell stories without lying. 

Monday, November fifth: This has been a fine day, and brought with it anew lot of experiences. I took a few kodak views of a dog-team andfur-dressed people in front of the Mission. After supper four neighborscame (the same who called on us the other evening) with their horse totake us out for a moonlight ride, and it proved a very novel one. A big, grey horse, with long legs supporting his great hulk, and carrying himaway up above us as we sat on the sled; the conveyance, a home-made"bob" sled upon which had been placed rough boards piled with hay andfur robes for the comfort of passengers, and the harness home-made likethe "rig, " was ingeniously constructed of odds and ends of old rope ofdifferent colors which the men assured us, when interrogated upon thepoint, were perfectly strong and secure. 

In it were knots, loops, twists, and coils, with traces spliced at greatlength in order to keep us clear of the horse's heels, but whichfrequently got him entangled, so that he had to be released by thefootman (the clerk). When this occurred, the latter, with an Indianwar-whoop, leaped off the sledge, flourished and cracked his big "blacksnake" whip in air to encourage the animal to run faster, and I, sittingwith the driver on the front seat, gripped for dear life the board uponwhich I sat. No Jehu, I feel sure, ever drove as did our driver tonight, assisted by the whooping footman with his black snake. Through driftsand over the pond, which was frozen, down steep banks to the beach, through snow deep and still deeper, helter-skelter they drove, skurrying, shouting, urging the poor beast on until he was wild of eye, short of breath, weary in limb, and reeking. 

Overhead the air was clear as crystal, stars bright, and a perfect fullmoon shining with brilliant whiteness over all. Only the jingle of thebells upon the horse, the shrieks of our footman and driver, and thelaughter of the passengers on the "bob" broke the stillness of thequiet, frosty air, which, in its intense purity and lightness seemedfairly to vibrate with electricity as we breathed. 

November sixth: I have spent the day at making a warm winter hood formyself. Finding that Mr. H. Had grey squirrel skins, I bought six of himfor twenty-five cents apiece, for a lining for hood and mittens. Thehood I made pretty large every way, sewing two red fox tails around theface for a border to keep the wind off my face, as is the Eskimofashion. 

During the day G. And B. Went out over the beach to collect driftwoodfor winter, and G. Came home finally without his companion. It wasthought that B. Went on to the Home, as he found himself not so far fromthat as from the Mission, where he would probably remain all night, andcome over next day. Two natives, with as many reindeer and sleds, camefor flour and other things, taking Mr. H. 's trunk of clothing with themfor the missionary. The little Eskimos were delighted to see the deer, and ran out to them, petting and talking to them. Then they rattled onamong themselves about the animals, inspecting and feeling of theirhorns, patting their fat sides, calling their names, and showing theirpleasure at seeing the pretty creatures in various ways. I did not knowwhich were of most interest, the deer with long, branching antlers, sleek spotted sides and funny heads, or the group of odd little Eskimochildren, with their plump dark faces, dressed in furry parkies andboots, tumbling gleefully around in the snow. 

Wednesday, November seventh: The weather is beautifully clear and sunnytoday, with charming sky effects at sunrise and sunset. Red, yellow andcrimson lines stretched far along the eastern horizon, cut by verticalones of lighter tints, until a big golden ball climbed up higher, and byhis increased strength warmed the whole snowy landscape. A few hourslater, this great yellow ball, looking bright and clear-cut, likecopper, sank gently beneath the long banks of purple-red clouds massedin artistic and majestic confusion. Everything, at this time, wasenveloped in the cooler, quieter tints of purple and blue, and hills, peaks, and icy bay all lay bathed in exquisite color. 

The two Eskimos brought the reindeer back from the Home today, stoppedfor lunch, and then went on their way to the herd again. Ricka, Almaand Miss J. Went out as far as the cliff for a ride on the sleds behindthe deer, but I felt safer indoors. Ricka says when the animals dashedover the big bank, out upon the ice near the cliff, she thought her lasthour had come. At first the deer trotted steadily along on the trail, but going faster and faster they rushed headlong through the drifts, dragging the sleds on one runner, and tearing up the snow like ablizzard as they went, until it seemed to the two girls, unused to suchriding as they were, that the animals were running away, and they wouldbe certainly killed. 

Miss J. Was quite used to this kind of traveling, and made no outcry, but Alma and Ricka finally got the natives to stop the deer and let themget off and walk home, saying it might be great fun when one wasaccustomed to it. 

The sleds used by the natives are called reindeer sleds because madeespecially for use when driving deer. They are close to the ground, andvery strongly built, as they could not otherwise stand the wear and tearof such "rapid transit. " Side rails are put on, but no high handle-barat the back, and when a load is placed upon the sled it is lashedsecurely on with ropes or thongs made of seal or walrus hide; otherwisethere would be no load before the journey was completed. 

Mr. H. Says he has long experience with them, but never feels quite surethat an animal will do what is wanted of him, though when driven bynatives who are well used to their tricks and antics, especially if theanimals have reached mature age, they make good travelers, and get overthe ground very fast. A hundred miles a day is nothing to them if thesnow is not too deep and their load reasonable. 

Men and dog-teams are coming into camp from Nome each day now, and saythat the trails are in first-class condition. We hope for mail soon fromNome. Mr. H. Came, bringing with him a Swedish preacher who is winteringhere, though not officially connected with the Mission. He is a sweetsinger, liking well to accompany his Swedish songs upon the guitar ororgan, for he plays both instruments. 

Mr. L. Left at six in the morning for the Home, walked there and back, and arrived at six in the evening. He went to ask Mr. H. If he and theothers could have reindeer with which to go to Koyuk River on aprospecting trip. He gave his consent and they think of starting nextweek. They think there may be some good creek up there that would do tostake, and the clerk is going with them. 

We have jolly times each evening singing, visiting and knitting. Myblack stocking grows under my needles a few inches each day, and will bewarm and comfortable footwear under my muckluks surely. 

November eighth: Some ptarmigan were brought in today, which are thefirst birds of the kind I have seen, and they are beautiful. They looklike snow-white doves, only larger, with silky feathers and lovelywings. They are soon to be cooked, for they are the Arctic winter birdsand make good eating. We are all blessed with ravenous appetites. 

A man was killed with a club last night in a drunken brawl, in a hotelnear by. He only lived a few hours after getting hurt, but it is saidthat the other killed him in self defense. Both the United Statesmarshal and the commissioner were away at the time. It is a pity theywere not at home, for the affair, perhaps, would then have beenprevented. There are probably not more than one hundred white persons inthe camp altogether, but there must be fully half as many Eskimos, andthey are always coming and going. There are several saloons (one kept bya woman), a large hotel and one or two smaller ones, besides two orthree company's stores and a few log cabins and native huts, besides theMission. 

The boys want to get off as soon as possible for Koyuk, but fear theywill have to go to Nome for camp stoves and pipe, as there are none tobuy here. They brought wood from the beach today on the sleds, and thereis no lack of fuel here, nor of strong, willing arms to gather it. Itseems a long, long time to wait without hearing from the home folks. Iwonder how it seems to them. I only wish they could see how comfortablyand happily we are situated, and what jolly times we have, for it woulddo their hearts good. Few are so favored in all Alaska, of that I amcertain. 

Saturday, November tenth: I have sewed all day on a canvas coat for Mr. B. , Alma helping with the cutting. He wants it to put on over his furparkie to keep the snow and rain off it, and has himself made the loopsand fastenings. He whittled out the buttons from small pieces of wood, twisted cord to loop over them, and put them all firmly on the coat sothat it looks well, and will be serviceable. I put a good-sized hood ofthe same, with a fur border around the face, on the coat, and it will bea good garment to hunt ptarmigan in, for it is the color of snow, andthe birds cannot see him. 

The visiting preacher has had an experience in being in the water, andfrom it has contracted rheumatism in one limb, which he is nursing, sohe sits by the fire and plays and sings for us while we sew. He is verypleasant, and all seem to like him. The weather is not cold and Miss J. And Mr. H. Started out with reindeer for the Home at seven in themorning. It was a singular sight to see them when leaving. All thelittle natives in fur parkies stood around, watching. The two sleds wereloaded with baggage, and Miss J. Sat on the top of one of them, holdingthe rope that went under the body of the deer and around his Head andhorns for a harness. This deer was tied to the back of the sled infront of him, and Mr. H. Went ahead having hold of the rope that wasfastened to the first deer. 

Sunday, November eleventh: We are having a heavy and wet snow storm. Allstayed in until three in the afternoon, when we attended church servicein the schoolhouse. I played the organ, the Swedish preacher read theScriptures, and Ivan interpreted. We sang hymns and songs, and the hourwas enjoyed by all, though the preacher did not feel quite well enoughacquainted with the English to preach in that tongue, and Mr. H. Wasaway. There were about twenty natives present, and ten or twelve whitepeople, Miss E. Remaining at home to get the dinner. I went in thoughtover the great waters to my southern home, where today the churches aredecorated with palms and floral beauties, and I saw the friends in theiraccustomed seats--but I was not there. Thousands of miles away to thefrozen north we have come, and little do we know if we shall ever seehome again. Tears came to my eyes, but I kept them hidden, for noneshall say I am homesick; I am glad to be here. I have faith to believethat the Father's loving watch-care will be still further extended, andI shall reach my homeland and friends some time in the future. 

November thirteenth: Weather is warm, wet, and sunny. Water is runningin the bay and snow is soft under foot. I worked this afternoon on amitten pattern for myself, assisted by Alma. Evidently pattern makingwas intended for others to do, for though my spirit is as willing aspossible, the flesh is very weak in that direction; but I did finallyget a mitten, thumb and all, that looks not half bad. This was bannerday for my laundry work, and my handkerchiefs have been ironed for thefirst time since I sailed from San Francisco. Heretofore I was in luckto get a time and place in which to wash them. At half-past four o'clockin the afternoon, when it was too dark to sew longer, Alma, Ricka and Iwent out upon the beach to meet the boys who had been gathering wood, and we walked a half mile over the rough trail of ice blocks, drifts andhummocks. 

We floundered on through all until we saw them coming, and then satresting on some logs until they came up. Two of Mr. H. 's dogs, Fido andMuckaleta, had followed us, and ran at our heels playing in the snow, which was more than one foot deep in places. The boys had found a longladder on the beach, probably from some wreck, and they had brought iton the sled with the wood. It was most difficult work hauling the sledover the uneven trail, and all were puffing and perspiring when theyreached home. 

A little prayer meeting was afterwards held in the kitchen during whichMr. H. And Miss J. Came in from the Home with reindeer, tired andhungry. We spent a pleasant evening visiting, singing and knitting. 

A man has come from Nome, and says that the steamer bringing Missionsupplies from San Francisco was obliged during the last hard storm tothrow some of its cargo overboard, and part of the Mission's stores werethus lost. All are sorry to hear this, as it means a shortage ofnecessary things, like furniture for the Home, where much is needed. 

November fourteenth: Miss J. Has taken in two more little Eskimos, agirl and a boy. First of all, she cuts their hair close to their heads, then each has a good bath in the tub, and they are dressed in cleanclothing from head to foot, and fed plentifully. This was their program, and they look very happy after it, and evidently feel as well and lookbetter. This boy seems to be about ten years old, and the girl a littleolder, but it is not customary among the Eskimos to keep account oftheir ages, and so nobody really knows how old any one is. 

Alma has cut over a big reindeer skin parkie for the visiting preacher, and a fur sleeping bag for Miss J. , while Ricka has made a fine cap forMr. H. Of dog's skin, lined with cloth. This morning when the men wentout to the hills where their two reindeer had been tied in the moss, theanimals were gone, and Ivan returned fearing that they had been stolen, but when Mr. H. , G. And B. Went to look, they found no men's footprints, and concluded that they had broken away and gone back to the herd, astheir tracks went in that direction. Mr. H. Went on after them, and thetwo boys came home wet with perspiration from floundering about in thedeep, soft snow, and wearing their heavy rubber boots. I gave themcoffee when they got back. 

I have sewed on my new mittens, and done some knitting, besides tendingthe baby, who runs quickly from one thing to another like any othermischievous child, getting into first one thing, and then some other, which must be coaxed away from her by management. I usually do this bygiving her some new plaything, if I can possibly find any article shehas never yet had. A box of needles, buttons and thread she likes bestof anything I have yet found, and a grand reckoning day will come beforelong when Alma finds the little Eskimo has been amusing herself with herproperty. 

Mr. G. Found a part of somebody's outfit, consisting of clothing and tindishes, on the beach today. Miss J. Held a little meeting again in thekitchen for the natives after supper, and is very happy over having thetwo new little Eskimos. 

This is our fourth week in the Mission, and pleasant and happy ones theyhave been, at least, if there have been vexations to some, they havesucceeded admirably in keeping them out of sight. 

November fifteenth: The weather is still warm, wet and slippery underfoot. This morning a young man called from Nome, with a letter fromMary, saying she is coming by dog-team as soon as the trails are good. 

The commissioner called today to get the preacher to officiate at thefuneral of the man who was killed, but it was postponed until tomorrow, because the grave could not be finished before dark. The commissionersat for half an hour, and chatted in the sitting room. 

November sixteenth: All hands are at work now for the children, andoveralls, waists and shirts for the little boys as well as garments forthe girls are on the docket. The big boys fished, and got smelt andtom-cod. B. Sewed at mittens for himself, and G. Took the church organto pieces to clean and repair it. Mr. M. , who has been at work on theHome, has come here to spend the winter. I wish he would set to work andcatch some of the mice which infest the house, and run over me when I amasleep in the night time. 

A meeting for the natives in the house again tonight, and the doors hadto be left open on account of the pungent seal oil perfume from thegarments of the Eskimos. 

The man who was killed was buried today in the edge of the littlegraveyard on the hillside. The Swedish preacher was asked to go to thegrave, and he did so, reading a Psalm, and offering a prayer. Only fouror five men were present. It is a stony, lonely place, without a tree insight; the few scattering graves having only wooden slabs for headboards. Being just above the beach, the spot commands a view of the bayin front, but it is now all a snow and ice desert, and the most drearyplace imaginable. Very little was known of the murdered man, and no goodcould be said of him, but it is supposed that he has a wife and childrensomewhere. 

What a dreadful ending! Will his family ever know what has become ofhim, and is his mother still living? If so, I hope they may never learnof his horrid death and worthless life in Alaska. He was never consciousfor a moment after being hurt, so they know nothing as to where to writeto his relatives. It makes one shudder to think of it! He may have beena good and bright child, beloved by parents and brothers, but the drinkcurse claimed him for its own. 

The weather is clear, with sunshine and frost. The visiting preacher hasbeen making himself useful for a few days by helping us in cutting outoveralls and blouses for the Eskimo boys. Down on his knees upon thefloor, with shears, rolls of denim, and a pair of small trousers topattern by, he has wielded the little steel instrument to good purpose, and encouraged and assisted us greatly. 

With their new clothes, the children are all quite well pleased, forthey are fresh and sweet. The missionaries are trying very hard to teachthem cleanliness among other things, and they sometimes come and standin the doorway and look at us sewing, their faces always good natured, and showing more or less curiosity. When told to run away to play, theyobey quickly, and little Pete and the others like to keep the wood boxesfilled to help us. The older girls being from ten to twelve years ofage, are often caring for and amusing Bessie, and she is fond of them, until, like any other child, she cannot have her own way, and then shedisapproves of them by kicking and screaming till Miss J. Comes tosettle the business. 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

SWARMING. 

Arctic explorers have always found it a difficult matter to keeppleasantly and profitably employed during the long winter months, and Ihave often wondered how it would be with ourselves. So far, there seemsto be no scarcity of employment for all hands, neither is there anyprospect of it. For the men there is always the beach-wood to collect, haul and saw up into firewood, not to mention the splitting with an axe, which is, I believe, as hard work as any of it, and there is water tobring in barrels each day or two from Chinik Creek, a mile away, fordrinking and cooking purposes. The barrels are put upon sleds and hauledby the men themselves, or by the dogs if they happen to be here, and arenot at work. As to the reindeer, of course there can be no such thing asmaking them haul either wood or water, for none could be found steadyenough, and should the experiment be tried, there are ten chances to onethat not a stick of wood would remain upon the sleds, nor a drop ofwater in the barrels, while the distance between creek and Mission wasbeing made. 

Of course there is always enough for women to do if they arehousekeeping, and with sewing, knitting and what recreation we take outof doors, we fill in the time very well. It is much better andpleasanter to be employed, and the time passes much more rapidly thanwhen one is idle, and I for one enjoy the change of work and thewinter's outlook immensely. Compared to what we have done in Nome duringthe summer, this is child's play, and the boys who have worked at realmining say the same thing. 

November seventeenth: We have had our first lady visitor today who camefrom White Mountain about fifteen miles away. She is the lady doctor whobrought Miss J. Through typhoid fever last fall, and is much at homehere. She was sent for by a sick woman in the hotel, and will spend thenight with Miss J. , who is very kind to her. The visiting preacher leftfor the Home this morning very early, going with a native and reindeer. Mr. L. And B. Were called in to the jury trial of the murderer whokilled the man in the hotel the other night, and they got home late. Thegirls were out upon the ice in the evening for exercise, getting tiredof being indoors all day long, and needing fresh air. When all were inat half-past eleven in the evening, coffee and crackers were taken byall but me, but I have had to leave off drinking coffee, taking hotwater with cream and sugar instead. B. Says he thinks the latter toostimulating. 

[Illustration: ESKIMO DOGS. ]

This has been a bright and cold Sunday for November eighteenth. Mr. H. Walked in to nine o'clock breakfast from the Home, coming by dog-team, and looked well dressed and smiling. No service was held until evening, so we went out for a walk upon the hill behind the house. B. And L. Leftus to go and examine some wood that natives were hauling away from thebeach, thinking it was some of theirs, for each stick is marked, so theyknow their own; but it proved not to be their wood, and the two thencame home another way. 

While out, we walked through the small burial ground, and saw thenew-made grave of the murdered man. O, how desolate was that spot! A fewmounds, stones, snow and bleak winds forever blowing. Here we read aheadboard, upon which was the name and age of good old Dr. Bingham ofNew England, who died here years ago, and whose wife planted wild rosesupon the grave. I wonder if we will see them in bloom next summer, orwill we be under the snow ourselves like these others. 

For our dinner today we ate fried tom-cod, baked potatoes, tomatoes, pickles, bread and butter, and rice pudding. I feel positive thatnothing could have tasted better to our home folks in the States whohave more fruit and vegetables than did this plain and homely meal tous, eaten with the heartiest appetites gotten out of doors while walkingin the snow. The ice in the bay is getting firmer, and will continue togrow thicker all winter, being in the spring at breaking-up time manyfeet through, no doubt, as it was in Minnesota in the Red River of theNorth when I lived there. I am glad that I am a cold climate creature, and was born in winter in a wintry state, for I will be sure to endureAlaska weather better than I otherwise would. 

This evening we had service again in the church or schoolhouse, and theroom was quite filled. The woman doctor was there, also the storekeeperand the United States Marshal, besides our own family, and a good manynatives. Mr. H. Preached, and was interpreted in Eskimo as usual. I wishsome of my fastidious friends on the outside could have seen thecosmopolitan company of tonight. 

The refined and serious face of the storekeeper, the black-eyed doctor(woman), the fair-faced Swedes, and the square-jawed, determinedofficial, made a striking contrast to the Eskimos dressed in furparkies, and smelling of seal oil. Many of the latter continually carrysmall children on their backs underneath their parkies, a heavy belt orgirdle of some sort keeping the youngster from falling to the ground, but the smaller ones are seldom brought out in the evening. These womensquat upon the floor as often as they sit upon a chair, and when a babycries from hunger he is promptly fed on ahmahmuk, (mother's milk, )regardless of the assembled company. With an Eskimo mother nothingcomes before the child's wishes, and if the latter only succeeds inmaking his desires known to her, she will obey them to the letter. Thatthere are unruly Eskimo youngsters, goes without saying, as a child doesnot need a white skin to help him understand this, and arrange histactics accordingly. 

The Mission is crowded to its utmost, but I believe the hearts of thegood missionaries are made of elastic. 

When we reached the house after service this evening we heard that amail was expected, and would leave for Dawson tomorrow, so we set towork to write letters, and then found it all a mistake, for it is onlygoing to Nome from Unalaklik, and we were all disappointed. 

The weather today, November seventeenth, is a great surprise to us. Itis raining, and so icy underfoot as to be positively dangerous to lifeand limb. I had occasion to go out for a while this forenoon, and knewno better than to wear my muckluks, which are smooth as glass on thebottoms. To make things more lively, the wind blew a gale from thenortheast. 

When I left the house, I was going in the same direction as the wind, and though I nearly fell many times I kept stubbornly on, determined notto be vanquished. On my return--then came the "tug of war. " Near thewarehouse a gust of wind took me unawares, and, whisk! in a minute Iwas sprawling flat upon the ice. I had gone out with my Indian blanketover my head and shoulders, and this blew out like a sail, upsetting mytall and slippery footed craft, and bumping me ignominiously. 

I now tried to rise, but could not. Turn as I would, using my hands tosteady me, I only made a vain effort to get upon my feet, as I slippedeach time quite flat again. Thinking to turn first, and get upon myknees, I tried that, but rolled like a fuzzy caterpillar in a ball uponthe ice. Then, alas, I regret to relate it, but I really began to feel alittle vexed. I began calling loudly, supposing that someone in thehouse would hear me, and come to my assistance; but the wind carried myvoice away faster than I could throw it, and that availed me nothing. Atno other time since my arrival at the Mission I felt certain had therebeen so long a lull between the passing of its inmates through itsdoors; but now, because of my present strait, they all remained indoors. 

In the meantime I had thrown my hands out suddenly into water whichstood in little pools in depressions of the ice around me, and I laythere getting more vexed than ever. Again I tried to rise, but failed. Astranger would suppose me tipsy, to be sure, and I glanced around tomake certain no one saw me. Finally the door opened, and Miss L. Cameout. 

"What is the matter?" and she began laughing at my predicament. 

"Matter enough!" I shouted. "Can't you see? I can't get up to save mylife. Do come and help me, " and I began struggling upon my slippery bedagain to convince her. 

Still she only laughed, standing in the wind with her hands upon herhips in order to keep her balance. 

"Do come and help me, " I begged, "or go in and send one of the boys, forI shall stay here all day if you do not. "

When she had her laugh out, she came forward and assisted me to my feet, and into the house, where I finally smoothed my ruffled feathers, andrecovered my equanimity, telling Miss L. I would pay her back in her owncoin when I got the opportunity. 

A native has come with reindeer to carry a load of goods to the Home, but cannot leave on account of the icy trail until tomorrow, or wheneverit freezes again. 

Today is November twenty-first, and the weather is still soft and badunder foot, so the family cannot move to the Home until the trail is inbetter condition. B. Shot more ptarmigan, and we had a dinner of them, which was excellent. They almost seem too pretty to kill, but fresh meatis scarce nowadays, and we must take it when we can get it. 

November twenty-second has come, and with it colder weather. It is fivedegrees below zero, and the sun shines. The doctor from White Mountainhas been helping Miss J. Pack her large medicine chest ready for moving, as many of these supplies will be left in this house. 

Since the days are colder we have most beautiful skies at sunrise, though we now keep the lamps burning until half-past eight in themorning. 

We have heard that the Nome mail is in, but it brought nothing to me. Weare writing letters to send out the first chance we get, whenever thatwill be, but nobody knows so far. 

The Commissioner called today and told us of a new strike at theheadwaters of Fish River; a man and woman coming down to record a bunchof twenty claims having given the information. The woman runs aroadhouse on the Neukluk River, and wants to take an Eskimo boy toraise, and teach to work--probably it is mostly the latter, though sheseemed a kindly person. Miss J. Told her that she had no boy to giveaway. 

The Marshal and the man in the old schoolhouse started with dogs toNorton Bay today for a short trip, so we hear. The wife of the man wentwith small Eskimo boys to the bay to fish for tom-cod. 

Alma is making a fur sleeping bag of reindeer skins for the teacher, sowhen she travels she can have it to sleep in nights. It is very heavyto hold and handle while sewing. 

Two men called who have been shipwrecked in Norton Bay, and told of theH. Family, consisting of the father, mother, and little daughter whom Ihave seen in Nome. They lost all their clothing, but saved part of their"grub, " and we have made up a package of clothing to send to the womanand child by the men who are going back there. In the darkness, onenight, they say the schooner "Lady George" went aground on the mud flatsof Norton Bay, the tide rising soon after, and all having to flee fortheir lives to nearby ice, from which they went ashore to a log hut longago deserted. The child, who is about twelve years old, is now withoutclothing, and winter is coming on. 

The fates are hard on some people, surely, and this little girl latelyfrom San Francisco, the public school, and piano lessons, is left withher parents in an Arctic wilderness in winter without clothing orshelter, except a poor broken hut, and a few men's garments generouslydonated. The men say that her mother is almost wild over it, and theythought at first that she would go insane, but the brave little childdoes all she can do to comfort her mother, and the men begged us to sendthem some things. Among the clothing we sent I put in a few schoolbooks, a slate, some pencils, and a Bible, which may be of use inlonely hours. They may read the good book now if they never havebefore. They are Swedish people. 

It is three degrees below zero today, November twenty-fifth, clear, bright and cold. Mr. H. Came with a man and his dog-teams to move thewhole family tomorrow to the Home. All are delighted to go there, as weare to remain here. The shipwrecked men called again to tell us morefully about their experiences, and are now going back to their camp. They certainly had an awful time, but they are glad and thankful to havecome out alive, and we are also glad for their sakes. 

Two of the Commissioners have been here, one from fifty miles away, wanting to buy a reindeer for his Thanksgiving dinner, but Mr. H. Wouldnot sell one. He has been very urgent, and called a number of times, butMr. H. Is firm in refusing. Our good dinner today was made up of muttonstew with onions, baked potatoes, tomatoes, fruit soup, bread, butterand coffee. I have taken a few kodak views today of Miss J. And theEskimo baby, Bessie, and hope they will be good. 

November twenty-sixth: It is ten degrees below zero, but the wholehousehold was up early this morning to move over the ice to the newHome. Four big dog sleds were piled high with household things, the babywas tucked into a fur sleeping-bag with only her head out, at which shehowled lustily, Miss J. Running beside the team to comfort her, whileMr. H. , his assistant and Ivan, with Mr. G. Of our party, ran ahead ofthe dogs. Breakfast was eaten at eight o'clock in the morning, and allwas hurly burly and excitement till they had gone. Ricka, Alma and I ranout to the beach to see them off upon the ice, as then they would havefair traveling, but we were afraid they would tip everything over at thebank where the drifts are high, and blocks of ice piled in places. Everything was lashed tightly down, however, and no accident occurred. All the children but Bessie ran alongside the sleds to keep warm, andthey had lunches with them to eat when they were hungry. When thesmaller ones grew tired, I suppose they rode for a while on the sleds. It was eleven o'clock in the morning, and the bright sun shone directlyin our faces as we stood waving good-bye to them, really sorry to seethem leave us. The hills, almost bare of snow, lay pink and lovely underthe sunshine. 

After lunch M. Went out, slipped on the ice and fractured his collarbone. The Dawson man in the old schoolhouse, (who claims to be adoctor), brought him indoors, but poor M. Was pretty pale. The man, withG. 's help, attended to his hurt, put his arm in a sling, and he is lyingon the lounge looking serious, but not discontented nor sufferingseverely. 

We were not to have so small a family many hours, as we found at aboutfive o'clock in the afternoon today, when there was a great commotion atthe door. There were men's voices, a woman's jolly laughter, and thequick barking of dogs, glad to reach their journey's end, and when weopened the door to those knocking, there were Mary and two friends fromNome with their dog-teams. In they came, laughing, talking and brushingthe frost off their parkies, glad to get here, and hungry fromtraveling, so we gave them a warm welcome, and good hot coffee andsupper. 

Then Mary, (real Viking that she is, and from Tromso, in Norway, )related the story of her journey by dog-team. Eighty-five miles, theycall it, from Nome by water to Chinik, but overland it is probablyfarther. Nights were spent in the roadhouses, she said, but there waslittle sleep to be had in them, for they were crowded and noisy, and shewas thankful the trip was now ended, and she had safely arrived. 

The two young men who came with her seem nice, honest fellows, and I amacquainted with one of them from seeing him at the "Star" many times, where he often ground coffee to help evenings, or chatted in the kitchenwhen we worked. 

From Nome they had brought two sled loads, on one of them a cook stovefor the winter, as the big range in use here now will go later to theHome, besides which they had food supplies and stove pipes. 

At night Mr. L. Came back from the reindeer station, saying that theycan have four reindeer for their prospecting trip to the Koyuk River, and they are making up their party to go there. 

November twenty-seventh: I was washing the dishes this morning in thekitchen, when Mr. L. Came quietly to say he will take my attorney paperand stake a gold claim for me. He will do his best, he says, for me aswell as the others, for which I cordially thanked him, and flew on wingsto get the desired paper made out, as the others were also doing. 

At half-past three o'clock in the afternoon today the lamps werelighted, and at four o'clock in the afternoon a mail got in from Nome, but brought no letters for me, as all steamers have long since stoppedrunning, and I am not corresponding with any one at Nome. I wonder whenI will hear from my home folks?

Our legal documents cost us each $2. 50. 

November twenty-eighth: This has been a fine day out of doors, and abusy one indoors. Mr. H. With a man and two natives came with thedog-teams to take what household stuff they could carry, and they tookthe organ with the rest. I hated to see it go, but we are to have theone in the church, which G. Has just cleaned and brought into the house, as the frost in that building is bad for it. They loaded their sleds, then ate a lunch at half-past eleven o'clock in the morning, andstarted. The two boys from Nome also left for that place, they beingquite rested, as well as their dogs. Drilling parkies they wore to"mush" in, their furs and other traps being lashed to the sleds; andbidding us good-bye, one ran ahead, and the other behind the dogs. 

CHAPTER XIX. 

NEW QUARTERS. 

After thinking for some time of doing so, I finally decided to call atthe hotel and ask the captain and his wife if I might not teach theirlittle black-eyed girl English, as Miss J. 's leaving deprives her of ateacher. The woman was not in when I called, but the child's fatherseemed to think favorably of my plan, and said he would consult with hiswife, so I hope to get the child for a pupil. 

B. And G. Have moved all their things into the house from theschoolroom, and Ricka hung the clothes she has been all day washing outthere to dry. There is a small stove in which a fire is often made todry them more quickly. It is most convenient to have such a place fordrying clothes, as it is impossible to get them dry outside on the linesin the frost and snow. 

We spent the evening pleasantly together in the sitting room, listeningto B. 's jokes, and Mary's stories of Nome and the "trail. "

For our Thanksgiving dinner we had canned turkey, potatoes, tomatoes, pickles, fruit, soup, bread, butter, and coffee, trying hard not tothink of our home friends and their roast turkeys and cranberries. However, the dinner was a good one for Alaska, eaten with relish, andall were jolly and very thankful, even M. , with his sore collar-bone, laughing with the rest. 

November thirtieth: Mr. H. Came with a man, two natives, seven reindeerand four sleds to take more furniture away. They all ate dinner here, and I took some kodak views of the animals with Alma, Ricka, Mary, G. And a native driver in the sunshine in front of the Mission. Mary goesup to the animals and pets them, as does Ricka, but I keep a good wayoff from their horns, as they look ugly, and one old deer has lost hisantlers, with the exception of one bare, straight one a yard long, which, with an angry beast behind it, would, however, be strong enoughto toss a person in mid-air if the creature was so minded. 

There has been some hitch in the arrangements of the men going to theKoyuk River, and there is a delay, but they will get off some day, because L. Never gives up anything he attempts to do, and I like him forthat. If more people were like this, they being always certain that theywere started in the right direction, the world would be the better forit. 

December first: Mr. B. Is making bunks in two rooms upstairs, as thehouse is so full all the time. This will give quite a little morelodging room, for cots cannot be provided for all, neither is thereroom for so many, but with bunks, one above another, it will furnishlodgings for all who come. 

Our two fisher women went out again this afternoon, and got tom-codthrough the ice by the cliff, near the snow-buried river steamers. 

About four o'clock in the afternoon I called on the captain's wife, andfound her sewing furs. For her helper she had her cousin Alice, the coy, plump Eskimo girl, who traveled to San Francisco with her last year. Both women sat upon fur rugs on the floor, as is their custom whensewing, and they were sorting bright beads, and cutting moosehide intomoccasins and gauntlet gloves, to be decorated with beads in the fashionof the Yukon River Indians. 

I had no difficulty in arranging for lessons with the captain's wife, who would also study with her little girl, she said, and she showed meschool books, slates, etc. , they had already been using. If their pianowere only here, the child, who is a pretty little thing, with a sweetsmile, might take music lessons, but it cannot be brought over thewinter trail. 

We had snow today, but no church service. We rested, sang, read, ate andslept. A fine dinner of reindeer roast, with good gravy, mashedpotatoes, etc. , for our two o'clock meal, was eaten and well relished;but in spite of all the day seemed a long one for some reason. We wonderhow things are going on the outside and if the friends we love butcannot hear from are well, happy, and think sometimes of us. 

The Commissioner came to say that he would bring the Recorder, orCommissioner, from the Koyuk district with him to call this evening, andhe did so. The latter is a middle-aged man, whose family lives inMinneapolis, Minnesota, he himself being a native born Norwegian, buthaving lived in the States for twenty years. They brought two UnitedStates marshals with them, and one of them played on the guitar quitewell, though I thought I detected a scent of the bottle when he sang hissongs. He has a good voice, but untrained. 

Yesterday it was fifteen degrees below zero, but grew warmer towardnight, and began snowing. Today it snowed quite hard until dark. Alongthe shore huge blocks of ice lay heaped promiscuously, and deep driftsrolled smoothly everywhere. When I grew tired walking I stopped a momentand listened. There was no sound but the beating of my own heart. Thisthen was our new Arctic world. How wonderfully beautiful it was in itspurity and stillness. Look whichever way I would, all was perfectwhiteness and silence. When I walked the snow scarcely creaked under myfeet. Above, beneath, around, it was everywhere the same. It was asolemn stillness, but ineffably sweet and tender. It was good to live. Afeeling of sweetest peace and happiness swept over me, and tears sprangto my eyes. Was this heaven? It almost seemed like it, but glancingtoward the grave of the murdered man on the hillside I remembered thatthis could not be. Farther down the shore line, when I started to gohome, I saw the smoke of the cabins, through the veil of the snowflakes. 

[Illustration: WINTER PROSPECTING. ]

While giving Jennie her lessons this afternoon the Commissioner came into say that he would like me to do some copying for him, for as yet hehas no clerk, and needs one. I told him I would do the work if I mighttake it home, and could get a quiet corner by myself. I hardly see how Iam to manage that while there are so many people in the house, but Ishall try it, for I would like to earn the money. 

This morning it was three degrees above zero; yesterday it was fifteenbelow. 

A full moon hung high in the sky this morning until nine o'clock. Weather is warm and beautiful, with rosy clouds at sunrise, but it grewcolder by noon. 

Among other things Mary has brought from Nome is her little hand sewingmachine, which is an old-fashioned thing, to be fastened to a table andthe wheel turned by hand. It was brought from the old country, and looksquite well worn, but is still useful and far better than no machine, ifit does have a chain stitch which is liable to rip easily. We have a lotof amusement with this machine, for when Alma is sewing and one of theboys happens to be idle about her she makes him turn the wheel whileshe guides the cloth and watches the needle. 

Others besides myself are wearing muckluks by this time, though not allhave come to them, the felt shoes being worn in the house some by thegirls until severe cold forces them into the native boots of reindeerskin. 

In her rooms at the hotel Mollie sits with Alice each day on the furrugs, cutting, sewing and beading moccasins and moosehide gloves. Aregular workshop it is. Boxes of thread, beads, scraps of fur, wholeotter skins, paper patterns, shears, bits of hair and fur scattered uponthe floor, and the walls covered with hanging fur garments; this is thesewing-room of the captain's wife as it is now each day when I go there. The room contains two large windows, one on the north side and one onthe west, at which hang calico curtains tied back with blue ribbons indaytime. These women work very rapidly, with the thimble upon the firstfinger and by pushing the three-cornered skin needle deftly throughskins they are sewing. The thread they use for this work is made by themfrom the sinews of reindeer, and takes hours of patient picking androlling between fingers and palms to get spliced and properly twisted, but when finished is very strong and lasting. Their sewing and bead workis quite pretty and unique, and is done with exceeding neatness andcare, though not much attention is bestowed upon colors. 

Friday, December seventh, has been a busy day all round. L. And B. Started off early after breakfast on a prospecting trip, and the girlskept at their sewing. Mr. H. Came from the Home to get the sewingmachine and some lumber, and was packing up nearly all day, so that weare still quite unsettled, but it is much pleasanter for him to come toa warm house and where he gets hot meals after his twelve miles over theice with the deer or dogs. 

He left here at four in the afternoon and had been gone only an hourwhen Mr. F. And another man came from Nome, on the way to the Koyuk. Getting well warmed and eating a hearty supper, which was much enjoyedafter some days on the trail, they started with two reindeer and as manysleds for the Home, which is on the way to Koyuk. Another hour passedand two women and their guide from White Mountain came in, thesebelonging to the same party as the last men going to the Koyuk, andthese three had to remain over night as it was too late to push onfurther. The men brought their fur robes and blankets from their sleds, threw them into the bunks in the west room, and called it a good lodgingplace compared to the cramped and disorderly roadhouses upon the trails. 

December eighth: We had a fire fright this morning, which was notenjoyed by any one in the Mission. Mary had gotten up early, and twofires were already going, one in the kitchen range and one in thesitting room heater near my bed. It was still dark at half-past sevenand I was awake, thinking seriously of dressing myself, though there wasno hurry, for Mary was the only one yet up, when I saw a shower of largesparks of fire or burning cinders falling to the ground outside thewindow. I rushed into the kitchen telling Mary what I had seen, and sheran outside and looked up toward the chimney. Fire, smoke and cinderspoured out in a stream, but she satisfied herself it was soot burning inthe sitting-room chimney. 

Coming in, she pulled most of the wood from the heater, scattered saltupon the coals, and by this time all in the house were down stairs, asking what had happened. 

M. Says he will also take my attorney paper and stake a claim for me, ashe has decided to go to the Koyuk with the men who came last night fromNome. They have a horse, but as it is almost worn to the bone and nearlystarved, they hardly think he can travel much farther. M. Wants me toget him some location notices from the Commissioner when I see him. Whencoming home from Jennie's lesson this afternoon I was turning the cornerof the hotel when the wind took me backward toward the bay for thirtyfeet or more, and deposited me against an old wheelbarrow turned bottomupwards in the snow. To this I clung desperately, keeping my presence ofmind enough to realize my danger if blown out upon the ice fifty feetaway and below me, where I would be unable to make myself either seenor heard in the blinding storm and would soon be buried in the snowdrifts and frozen. 

In my right hand I carried my small leather handbag containing a dozenor more deeds and other documents to be recorded for the Commissioner, and if the wind blew this from my hand for an instant I was surelyundone, for it would never be recovered. I now clung to the barrow untilI had regained my breath and then made a quick dash for the lee or southside of the hotel out of the gale, and into the living-room again. HereI sat down to rest, trembling and breathless, to consider the best wayto get home. It was now dark, the snow blinding, and the gale from thenortheast fearful. A stout young Eskimo sat near me, and I finally askedhim to take me home, to which he consented. 

The Mission was only a few hundred feet away, but to reach it we had togo directly into the teeth of the storm, which was coming from thenortheast. 

Not six feet ahead of us could we see, but I trusted to the sense of myEskimo guide to lead me safely home, and he did it. Motioning me tofollow him, he proceeded to pass through the building and out the eastend entrance, notwithstanding that he led me directly through thebar-room of the hotel, where the idlers stared wonderingly at me. Onceoutside the door, he grasped my right arm firmly and we started, but hekept his body a little ahead of me, and with side turned from theblizzard instead of facing it. 

In this sidelong way we struggled on with all our strength, through snowdrifts, against the elements in the darkness, with breath blown from ourbodies, and eyes blinded by whirling snow. Now and again I was forced tostop to gain breath for a fresh struggle, and when we reached theMission we staggered into the door as if drunken. I now found that allmy clothing was blown so full of fine snow that the latter seemed fairlya part of the cloth, would not be shaken out, and only a thorough dryingwould answer. A good, hot cup of coffee was handed to each of us, and myEskimo guide sat until rested, but I think I shall take Alma's sageadvice, and in future remain at home during blizzards. 

Of course M. And the other men could not leave for the Koyuk as theyintended, but they do not appear to be discontented at having to remainunder our roof longer, as they seem to be enjoying themselves very well, and say it is all really home-like here in the Mission. 

I am working on the Recorder's books, and like the work fairly well. 

This is a stormy Sunday, December ninth, but the weather is not so badas yesterday, and B. And L. Came back from the Home. We have eight menhere today, including the two young fellows who have been at work on theHome building, and who came over from Nome weeks before the rest of us. This is the first time they have been here since we arrived. They, too, are Swedes, as are all these men but M. , who is a Finlander. 

For dinner we had reindeer roast with flour gravy, potatoes, plumbutter, rye and white bread and butter, coffee and tapioca pudding. Thepotatoes taste pretty sweet from being frozen, but are better than none. We have had music from the guitar, mandolin and organ, besides vocalexercise without limit, and with all this I found time to do some Sundayreading in Drummond's Year Book, and have well enjoyed the day. 

The thermometer registers thirteen degrees below zero, and at half-pasteight in the evening the wind was not blowing much; enough blizzard forthis time certainly. 

While talking with one of the men from Nome I asked if he supposed therewas gold in the Koyuk country, and he thought there was. As he was upthere all last summer, he ought to know the prospects. It appears thatthere is a split in his party, or a disagreement of some kind, as isquite the fashion in Alaska, and some of the men are to remain behind. As soon as the weather clears sufficiently they will go to the Home, andfrom there leave for Koyuk River. 

Monday, December tenth: The Commissioner, the Marshal, and three oftheir friends came in to spend the evening with us, and one of thestrangers sang well, accompanying himself on the organ. He also belongsto a party made up to go to Koyuk, but failed to reach that point, andthey are staying in Chinik. 

I bought two red fox skins today for ten dollars, but will have to payfive dollars more for their cleaning by a native woman, to whom I havegiven them for that purpose. It is the only kind of fur I can find ofwhich to make a coat, and I must have one of skins, as the wind goesstraight through cloth, no matter how thick it is. 

Six of our household went out today to get wood with the old horse andsled, but the poor creature would not go, probably because it could not. They had to unload a good many times and were gone five hours. Alma andRicka went with the four boys for an outing, but all came home tired andvoting the horse a great failure. 

This morning our house was astir very early, and the men were gettingready to "mush on" towards the Koyuk. Mr. L. Goes with the Marshal, theclerk, and two others, taking seven dogs and sleds loaded withprovisions. It is a sight to see the preparations. There are sacks offrozen tom-cod for the dogs, tents, Yukon stoves, tin dishes, snowshoes, sleeping bags and robes, coffee pots, axes, picks, gold pans andboxes, cans and bags of grub, ad infinitum. 

G. And B. Stay behind to make another camp stove but will leave soonfor Nome. B. Cleaned his gun today, and looked after his ammunition. 

[Illustration: AT CHINIK. THE MISSION. ]

Wednesday, December twelfth: Our sunset was very lovely today at one inthe afternoon, and at three o'clock, when I began with little Jennie'slessons, we had to light the lamp. I usually go into the sewing-room fora little while either before or after the lesson to watch the women sewfurs. 

Alice, the younger, is as quiet as a mouse, but the captain's wife is alittle more talkative, though not particularly given to conversation. Now and then, while she sews, something is said with which she does notagree, and she bites her thread off with a snap, with some terse remarkoffsetting the other, or with a bit of cynicism, which, with a quickglance of her black eyes and curl of the lip, is well calculated tosettle forever the offender; for the captain's wife is as keen as abriar, and reads human nature quickly. I should say she is gifted withwonderful intuitive powers, and these have been sharpened by herconstant effort to understand the words and lives of those around her, these being to such an extent English speaking people, while she is anEskimo. Let none flatter themselves that they can deceive Mollie, forthey would better abandon that idea before they begin. She impresses meas a thoroughly good and honest woman, and I am getting to respect hergreatly. 

Two of the boys from the Home spent the night in the Mission, and helpedwith sawing wood all forenoon today. They went from Nome to assist atbuilding the Home, and came over here for the first time yesterday. Theyare jolly fellows, and used often to assist us in the "Star" at Nome, one always lightening our load of work by his cheery voice and pleasant, hopeful smile. He, too, is a sweet singer, and a great favorite withall. After a lunch they started to mush back to the Home over the ice, promising to come again at Christmas. B. And G. Finally got started ontheir long, cold trip to Nome on business. 

CHAPTER XX. 

CHRISTMAS IN ALASKA. 

Thursday, December thirteenth: The old Eskimo whom I call "grandpa" camefrom the Home with one of Mr. H. 's assistants for a load of supplies forthe place, and arrived in time for breakfast at half-past nine. Theyloaded up the sleds, took hot coffee, and started back at eleven in themorning. Mr. M. Came back alone before noon, having given up his trip tothe Koyuk because his shoulder hurts him. The old horse had finally tobe killed, and Mr. M. Decided that he did not want to take his place athauling, so turned back after selling part of his supplies to theothers. The weather is fine indeed. A little snow is falling thisafternoon, but there was a beautiful sky at sunrise and sunset, thelatter at half-past one o'clock. 

While giving Jennie her lesson today I was introduced for the first timeto little Charlie, who spends a good deal of time with Jennie. He isfour years old, and a bright and beautiful child. His papa is anEnglishman, and his Eskimo mother is dead. After the lesson I readstories to the two children, holding the little boy upon my lap, whileJennie sat beside us in the lamplight, her big black eyes shining likestars. She wore a brown serge dress, trimmed with narrow red trimming, her hair neatly braided in two braids down her back, and tied with redribbons. Both children wore little reindeer muckluks on their feet, theboy being dressed in flannel blouse waist and knee pants. They are avery pretty pair of children. 

Such a charming, soft-tinted, red, purple and blue sky today, stretchingalong in bars above the snow-topped mountains. It makes one glad to behere, and feel full of pity for those who cannot enjoy it with us. It isgood to enjoy everything possible as one goes along, for nobody knowshow long anything will hold out and what will come next. At noon twohungry Eskimo children came, dirty, forlorn and cold, and we fed them. 

Mr. H. Came again toward evening with reindeer to get a load ofsupplies, and the girls and M. Went fishing. They had great sport, alldressed in fur, with short fish poles, hooks, bait and gunny sack forthe game, coming in frosty and rosy after dark, and calling for hotcoffee. 

I am quite interested in getting the fox skins for my coat. I have paidthe Eskimo girl five dollars for tanning my fur skins, and hope to havea warm coat. My first three skins cost me twelve dollars, the next twoten dollars, and now five dollars for tanning, but I have a lining, andMollie will make it for me next week. 

After supper we had a caller who has been here once before with others. He is a finely trained baritone singer, and comes from one of theSouthern States. He sang and played entertainingly on the organ for anhour, while we sewed and knitted as we do each evening. 

Saturday, December fifteenth: Eight weeks today since we landed atGolovin Bay. Weather good, skies beautiful, but days are short. Sunsetat half-past one in the afternoon; sunrise about ten in the morning. 

The Commissioner came with legal documents and customary jokes, and Itry to get the copying done in between times. He is going to Nome forChristmas, and wants the papers all finished before he leaves. He isconsidered a very "rapid" young man, and looks like it. 

Sunday, December sixteenth: We had breakfast today at sunrise (ten inthe morning) and I went for a walk alone upon the ice in a southerlydirection, where the natives were fishing. There was a good trail whichhas been made by a horse-team hauling wood from the other shore, and theair was fine, so that I enjoyed it very much, though my hood was soonfrosty around my face. For a while I watched the natives haul tom-cod upthrough the ice holes, but having no place to sit except upon the ice, as they did, I returned after having been gone two hours, and was soondressed for dinner in Sunday suit. 

After dinner Mr. H. Arrived with the teacher to hold an evening servicein the kitchen, the latter taking Ricka and Mary with her to call uponsome native families, two of whose members were sick. When they returnedRicka was full of laughter at the way they had entered the nativeigloos, especially Mary, who is a large woman and could barely squeezein through the small opening called by courtesy a door. Ricka says itwas more like crawling through a hole than anything else, and at onetime Mary was so tightly jammed in that she wondered seriously how shewas ever to get out. 

"Ugh!" said Ricka, when Mary related the incident, "that was not theworst of it. I wanted to keep the good dinner I had eaten, but the smellof the igloo almost made me lose it then and there, and as I was insidealready, and Mary stuck fast in the door so I could not get out, we wereboth in a bad plight. When I tried to help her she would not let me, butonly laughed at me. "

"Next time we will send Mrs. Sullivan, " said Alma, laughing. 

"And you go along with me, " said I, knowing that I could stand as longas Alma the smell of the Eskimo huts and their seal oil. So that wassettled, Miss J. , I presume, thinking us all very foolish to make somuch fuss over a little thing like that in Alaska. 

This evening, when the kitchen was filled with natives, their servicehad begun, and while some of us sat in the sitting-room to leave morechairs for the others, there came a knock at the door, and in walked theCommissioner and the young baritone singer, who was persuaded to sing afew solos after the meeting was through in the kitchen. 

Monday, December seventeenth: Mollie is cutting my fur coat for me, butsays I must have one or two more skins to make it large enough. She saysshe is too busy to study before Christmas, but will afterwards. TheCommissioner brought more copying for me to do, and told me I could havethe money for my work at any time. Some tell me he never pays anythinghe owes, and that I must look sharp or I will not get anything. Theother Commissioner has invited me to go to a New Year's party atCouncil, fifty miles away, saying he will take me there and back behindhis best dogs, but I refused, telling him that I never dance, and that Iam a married woman. At that he laughed, said he was also married, with awife in the States, but that does not debar him from having a good time. 

Word comes of a new gold strike not far away, but I think we are notreally sure that it is bona fide, and must not put too much dependenceon what we hear. The Commissioner comes with his copying, and is full ofjokes. 

Wednesday, December nineteenth: A man came from the Home yesterday whohas persuaded M. To go with him on a short staking expedition. Theythink they know of a new "find" very near home, and I ran over to theRecorder's to get two attorney papers made out for them to take as theysay they will stake for the girls and me. The Commissioner paid metwenty dollars on copying, and said he would settle the remainder whenhe got back from Nome, as he and the other Commissioner were justsetting out with a dog-team for that place. I have had to buy anotherfox skin for my coat, making twenty-seven dollars paid out on thegarment thus far. 

Right sorry I was today that Mr. H. Carried away the big velvet couchyesterday that I have slept on nights since coming here, and I triedlast night the wooden settle brought down from upstairs to thesitting-room. I found it a most uncomfortable thing to sleep on, as myfeet hung at least six inches over the end of the lounge, and they wereicy when I wakened in the morning. I then decided to go upstairs to oneof the canvas bunks in the northeast room, and I find it much betterevery way. The bunk is long, wide and warm enough with a reindeer skinunder me, and all my blankets and comforters over me, while I have theroom alone, temporarily, at least. 

Saturday, December twenty-second: This is the middle shortest day ofwinter, and a fine one, too, though we had not more than three and ahalf hours daylight. The skies are beautiful, with many bright colorsblended in a most wonderful way. 

The girls are hard at work cooking for Christmas, and while the boyswere all away today and we needed wood brought into the house, I riggedmyself in rag-time costume and fetched several loads in my arms. How thegirls laughed when they saw me, and declared they would fetch the kodak, but I ran away again. 

This afternoon M. And the other man returned from their little trip, looking bright and happy over having staked some claims for themselvesand us not very far away. These are our first claims staked, and wenaturally feel more than usually set up, though the men say of coursethere may be nothing of value in them. 

When I went to give Jennie her lesson I heard her father and another mantalking of a party of five persons who have been taken out to sea on theice, near Topkok. They started about three days ago from here, and onewas the sick woman who has been at the hotel, all on their way to Nomeby dog-team. 

There were two women and three men, two dog-teams and sleds. They werecrossing the ice between two points of land while upon the winter trailto Nome, the wind had loosened the ice, and when they tried to get uponshore again they found it impossible, and they were blown directly outto sea. Without food or shelter, and with the nights as cold as theyare, how can they live on the ice at sea? Some men have arrived bringingthe news, and say that two men went out in a boat to their rescue, butbroke their oars, the ice closed in on them, they were soaked through, and were obliged to use their best efforts to save themselves. 

The following night was very cold, and all think the unfortunates musthave perished. What a terrible fate, and one that may happen to any onetraveling in this country, though it does seem as if this ice shouldsoon freeze solidly. 

Sunday, December twenty-third: Soon after breakfast today a man came toour door asking for iodine, or remedies for a dog bite. A mad dog hadrushed upon a man sleeping in a tent in the night and bitten him quiteseverely upon the hands and leg. Mary and I put on our furs immediatelyand started out with the man, who piloted us into a small saloon, wherethe poor fellow sat by the stove with a white and pinched face. 

Several other men were standing about, after having done all they couldfor the injured man, but Mary washed the torn flesh in strong carbolicacid water, and tied it up in sterilized bandages, for which he seemedvery thankful. 

The little saloon was neat and clean, containing a big stove, six oreight bunks across the back end, and a long table, upon which werespread tin plates, cups and spoons. A short bar ran along one side bythe door. The men said that the mad dog had been shot immediately afterthe accident, but there were others around in the camp, they feared. 

I could easily see that the injured man was badly frightened as to theafter-effects of the dog bite, and both Mary and I did all in our powerto suggest away his fear, knowing well that this was as harmful as theinjury. I told him that the missionary, Mr. H. , had had a great deal ofexperience with such accidents, but never yet had seen a person thusbitten suffer from hydrophobia, which appeared to comfort him greatly. 

When we left the place he seemed more cheerful, though still very pale, and Mary promised to come again to see him. He belongs to a party ofthree men bound for Koyuk River. The young man who sings so wellsometimes at the Mission is one of the three, but the other I have notyet seen. 

Later on Mary and I called upon Alice, the Eskimo girl, who lives withher mother, near the hotel, and who is suffering with quinsy. I foundJennie and Charlie there, and took them out for a walk down on thebeach, where the little girl's aunt was cutting ice. As we passed the A. E. Store I noticed a dog lying on the porch having a bloody mouth, butas he lay quietly I did not think much about it. After we had passeddown the trail for a block or so, I heard a commotion behind us, andlooking back saw a young man rush out into the trail and shoot a dog, the one, as I afterwards learned, that I had seen on the porch. It hadbeen mad, and snapping around all day, but the men could not find itearlier, and the two little children and I had passed within a few feetof it without being conscious of danger. 

Mr. H. Came in to supper, also two others from the camp of theshipwrecked people, thirty miles away to the east of us. At supper oneof the men offered to stake some claims for us over near their camp, where they think there is gold. They took our names on paper, and saidthat after prospecting, if they found gold, they would let us into thestrike before any others. They will remain over night, and leave earlyin the morning. Mr. H. And Mary called after supper to see the man whowas bitten by the mad dog, and found him looking better, and not soworried as this morning. His friend was playing on the banjo, and allwere sitting quietly around the fire. 

Monday, December twenty-fourth: The two boys, G. And B. , came in latelast evening, tired and hungry, from the Nome trail, glad to arrive athome in time for Christmas. 

Early this morning Mary dressed herself up hideously as Santa Claus, bringing a big box of presents in while we sat at the breakfast tableand distributing them. Of course there were the regulation number offake packages, containing funny things for the boys, but each one had apresent of something, and I had a souvenir spoon just from Nome, anivory paper knife of Eskimo make from the girls, and later a white silkhandkerchief. 

Going into the sitting-room after breakfast, we were met by the fumesof burnt cork, hair or cotton, and upon inquiry were told that SantaClaus had had a little mishap; his whiskers had been singed by cominginto contact with the lamp chimney and that it had delayed matterssomewhat until Ricka, his assistant, could find more cotton on themedicine shelves; but the end of all was hearty laughter and a jollygood time; an effort to forget, for the present, the day in our ownhomes thousands of miles away. 

This morning, before noon, all in the Mission went to the Home to theChristmas tree and exercises, leaving me alone to keep house, the firsttime this has happened in Alaska. Mr. H. Had left the dog-teams, tworeindeer, and three sleds, with which they were to drive over, and amerry party they were. When they had gone I worked for some time atgetting the rooms in order, and making all as tidy and snug as possible, but I had no holly berries nor greens with which to decorate. All wassnowy and white out of doors, and a cheerful fire inside was most to bedesired. In the afternoon I gave Jennie her lesson as usual. I aminvited to eat Christmas dinner tomorrow with Mollie, the captain andlittle Jennie, and shall accept. A good many in camp have been invited, I understand, and I am wondering what kind of a gathering it will be. 

Tuesday, December twenty-fifth: Christmas Day, and I was alone in theMission all night, so I had to build my own fires this morning. I didnot get up until ten o'clock, as it was cold and dark, and I hadnothing especial to do. There is plenty of wood and water, andeverything in the house, so I do not have to go out of doors foranything. 

By noon I had finished my work, put on my best dress, and sat down atthe organ to play. I went over all the church music and voluntaries Icould find at hand, read a number of psalms aloud, and as far aspossible for one person I went through my Christmas exercises. 

If a certain longing for things and people far away came near possessingme, I would not allow it to make me miserable, for longing is notnecessarily unhappiness, and I had set my mind like a flint againstbeing dissatisfied with my present state. With what knowledge I possessof the laws of auto-suggestion, I have so far since my arrival in Alaskamanaged the ego within most successfully, and tears and discontent arenot encouraged nor allowed. 

We are creatures of voluntary habits, as well as involuntary ones, andhabitual discontent and discouragement, gnawing at one's vitals aretruly death-dealing. The study of human nature is, in Alaska, particularly interesting in these directions, to the one with his mind'seye open to such things, and I am resolved, come what will, that I willkeep the upper hand of my spirit, that it shall do as I direct, and notharbor "blues" nor discouragement. 

About two in the afternoon in came M. And one of the visiting Swedes, after having walked from the Home, where they had attended the Christmasparty, and they were well covered with icicles. I prepared a hot lunchfor them, and ate something myself. Later a native was sent by Mollie tofetch me over to the hotel to dinner, it being dark, and as I wasalready dressed for the occasion, I went with him. 

When I arrived at the dining-room they were just seated at table, andthe waiters were bringing in the first course. Twenty-five persons satat the Christmas board, at one end of which sat the captain as host withhis wife and little Jennie at his left. At his right sat the youngmusician, who had entertained us at the Mission several times with hissinging, and the storekeeper, but with a place between them reserved forme. 

After a quiet Christmas greeting to those around me, I took my seat, andthe dinner was then served. A bottle of wine was ordered by the host forme, and brought by the waiter, who placed it with a glass beside myplate. At each plate there had already been placed the sameaccompaniments to the dinner, with which great care had been taken bythe two French cooks in the kitchen, and upon which no expense had beenspared by the captain, who was host. While the waiters were serving thecourses, and conversation around the table near me became quite general, on the aside I studied the company. It was cosmopolitan to the lastdegree. Opposite me sat the hostess (Mollie) with her little Jennie, dressed in their very best, the woman wearing a fashionable trainedskirt, pink silk waist and diamond brooch, while the little child worelight tan cloth in city fashion, and looked very pretty. Below them satthe regular boarders at the hotel, hotel clerk, the bartender, miners, traders and the woman who kept the saloon. The latter appeared aboutthirty years of age, dark, petite and pretty, richly and becominglygowned in garments which might have come along with her native tonguefrom Paris. On our side of the long table, and opposite this woman, satthe only other white woman besides myself present, and she, with herhusband, the two neighbors who had given us our first sleigh ride behindthe grey horse. On this side sat more miners and the few travelers whohappened to be at the hotel at this time. The clerk, next his employer, who sat at my right, and the musician on my left, completed the numberof guests, with the exception of the one at the farther end of theboard, opposite the host. This was a young man in a heavy fur coat, hishead drooping low over his plate. 

"Don't let H. Fall upon the floor, boys, " said the captain, as he sawthe pitiable plight of the young man. "Poor fellow, he has beencelebrating Christmas with a vengeance, and it was too much for him, evidently. It don't take much to knock him out, though, and this wine, "taking up his wine glass and looking through the liquid it contained, "won't hurt a baby. "

"Do you never take wine?" politely inquired the musician of me, as henoticed that my wine glass remained untouched, and a glass of cold waterwas my only beverage. 

"I never do, " said I firmly, but with a smile, as I noticed that both heand the gentleman at my right barely touched theirs, while others drankfreely. 

"Waiter, bring Mellie another bottle of that wine, " called thebartender, from the other side of the table, "those bottles don't holdnothin' anyway, and a woman who can't empty more'n one of 'em ain'tmuch, " and a second bottle was handed the female dispenser of grog, aconnoisseur of long standing, and one who could "stand up" under as muchas the next person. By this time the woman opposite her was considerablyalong the road to hilarity, and shouts and laughter came from both, called forth by the jests of their companions alongside. 

Meanwhile the dinner progressed. The turkey was bona fide bird, and nota few gull's bones from a tin quart can, while the cake and ice creamwith which my meal was ended, were all that could be desired in Alaska. All voted that the cooks had "done themselves proud, " and no one couldsay that Christmas dinners could not be served in Chinik. 

Before rising from the table, at the close of the meal, toasts to thehost and hostess were drunk by those at the bottles, and Christmaspresents were distributed to many, principally to members of the familyand from boarders of the house. There were silk handkerchiefs, redneckties, "boiled shirts, " and mittens, and in some instances moosehidegloves and moccasins, made by the Eskimo hostess herself, while "Mellie"came in for a share, including a large black bottle of "choiceBurgundy. "

Upon leaving the dining table, the company separated, most of the mengoing into the bar-room and store, while the family and invited guestsrepaired to the living-room. Here a good-sized Christmas tree had beenarranged for Jennie and Charlie, and their presents were displayed andtalked over. In the meantime, the long dining table was cleared andspread again for the Eskimos, who soon flocked into the room in numbers. 

Some one proposed that we go to the Mission and have some songs by themusician, to which all assented, and nine of us, including the captain, his wife and Jennie, started over about half-past eight o'clock. Therewe found the rooms bright and warm, the two men keeping house in myabsence having escaped to the upper rooms on hearing the partyapproaching. Here a pleasant hour or two were passed in listening to thesongs of the musician, who always accompanies himself on hisinstrument, whether banjo or organ. He sang the "Lost Chord, " "OldKentucky Home, " and many other dear old songs, closing with "God Be WithYou Till We Meet Again, " and the doxology. After that they pulled ontheir parkies and fur coats and went out into the snow storm (for bythis time the snow was falling heavily), and to their homes, while I satdown alone in the firelight to review the events of the day--my firstChristmas Day in Alaska. How different from any other I have ever spent. What a disclosure of the shady side of human nature this is, --and yetthere is some good intermingled with it all. 

Many here cannot endure the stress of the current, nor pull against it, and so float easily on towards the rapids and destruction. Here is afield for the Christian worker, though Mr. H. Says he moved his littleflock twelve miles across the bay in order to get it farther away fromthis iniquitous camp. 

CHAPTER XXI. 

MY FIRST GOLD CLAIMS. 

Christmas is over for another year, and this is December twenty-sixthwith its daily winter routine. After I had given the two men theirbreakfast, I went out for a walk upon the beach. A few snowflakes fellupon my face as I walked, and it was not cold but pleasant. There was ared and glowing, eastern sky, but no sunshine, and I looked out over theice to see if possibly the girls were returning. Seeing nothing of them, I went home again. About two o'clock M. Came in, saying that they couldbe seen far out upon the ice, and we must build the fires and get dinnerstarted, which we then did. Soon Alma came riding on a reindeer sled, with a native driver, getting in ahead of the others, who arrived halfan hour later. 

Mr. H. Has come with two of his assistants and Miss E. By reindeer teamfrom the Home on their way to the station, where the animals are herdedin the hills, and all had a good lunch. After spending two hours inpacking, talking and resting, they left again, Miss E. On a sled behinda reindeer, which was driven by a native, and which tore up the snow inclouds as he dashed over the ice northward to the hills. I ran out uponthe cliff to see them on their way, being quite contented that it wasnot myself. 

I have learned that the five persons who drifted out to sea on the icewere brought back by the wind and tide, and escaped safely to land, after being at sea several days, but were unharmed, and went on to Nome. I was very glad to hear this, as they have had a narrow escape fromdeath. 

Friday, December twenty-eighth: The musician and his friend who wasbitten by the mad dog called this forenoon at the Mission to get theman's wounds dressed by Mary, the nurse. His hands are much better, butthe wounded leg may yet give him trouble. Mary did her best for the man, who seems to be growing more cheerful, and we do all possible toencourage and help him, lending him reading matter of various kinds withwhich to pass his time. A good many are going to the New Year's party atCouncil, among them the captain and his wife, and the musician; but Ishall not go, though both commissioners have urged me to accept theirinvitations, and did not enjoy overmuch my refusals. I was playing ballwith Jennie and Charlie before our lessons today when the party startedout with the dog-teams, for the nights are very moonlight and clear, andthey can travel for many hours. A cousin of Mollie's, by name Ageetuk, went with her. Jennie is to stay with her auntie until her mamma'sreturn, and I will give her the afternoon lessons just the same, only ather auntie's house. When the lesson was finished I led Charlie toAgeetuk's house, where her mother cares for him in the night time, andleft Jennie with her auntie, Apuk. This woman has a neat little cabin ofthree small rooms, furnished in comfortable fashion, with a prettyBrussels rug covering the floor of her best room, in which is a whiteiron bedstead, a good small table with a pretty cover, a large lamp, white dimity curtains at the windows over the shades, and in the nextroom there are white dishes upon the shelves. 

Sunday, December thirtieth: It is ten weeks yesterday since we arrivedat Golovin, or Chinik, as is the Eskimo name for the settlement, andpronounced Cheenik, a creek of the same name flowing into the bay a mileeast of this camp. During the day I went to look after Jennie andbrought the child home with me, giving her candy and nuts, and playingfor her on the organ. 

This evening we all went out upon the ice for a walk. We took the trailto White Mountain, going in a northwesterly direction, and enjoyed itvery much. We passed the cliff, and the boats, the snow creaking atevery step, and the moonlight clear and beautiful. We were out for twohours, and felt better for the fresh air and exercise. All old timerssay that it is bad for one's health to remain indoors too much inAlaska, and people should get out every day for exercise. There is farmore danger of getting scurvy by remaining in the house too much thanfrom any kinds of food we have to eat, and none of us wish to be illwith that troublesome disease. 

About five o'clock Miss E. Came in with a native from the station wherethe reindeer are kept, having grown tired of staying in a native hutwith the Eskimo women while the missionary was busy at work. She startedearly this morning when the weather was fine. Lincoln, the experiencednative who came with her, knew the way perfectly, and they expected tomake the twelve or fifteen miles and get into the Mission early, but theweather suddenly changed, as it knows so well how to do in this country, the wind blew, snow fell and drifted and though they came safely throughthe hills, they lost their way upon the bay while crossing to Chinik, and wandered for hours in the snow storm. 

Having no lunch, tent, nor compass, and no extra furs, they foundthemselves in a disagreeable plight, especially as the snow was verysoft and wet. They kept on traveling, however, until they were satisfiedthat they were going in circles, as do all when lost in a snow storm, and were making no progress; then they halted. 

Here they were overtaken by two white men, lost like themselves, who, when the matter had been talked over, would not follow the native, thinking they knew better than he the way to Chinik, and they went offby themselves. Miss E. Says that both she and Lincoln had given up hopeof getting here today, but she knelt upon the ice and prayed that theymight find their way safely, then trusted that they would do so, andstarted. After going on for a time in the storm, they saw a small, deserted cabin not far from them which Lincoln instantly recognized asone upon the point of land only a quarter of a mile west of Chinik, andthey were happy. 

They soon came into the Mission, full of gratitude, though wet, tiredand hungry, for it is so warm that there is water on the ice in places, and the snow is very heavy. They had only one deer with them. 

The two lost men came into camp an hour after Miss E. Arrived, havinggone past the cabin and camp, and southward too far in their reckoning. It is never safe to travel without a compass of some sort in thiscountry. Mr. H. And his two men have, besides attending to the herd, staked some gold claims while away, not far from our claims. The windhas died down, and there is no snow falling tonight at half-past eight. 

This is New Year's Eve, and the girls and boys are singing, and having agood time in the sitting-room while I write. We are going to sit up towatch the old year out and the new year in, and have a little songservice at midnight. 

This is the last day of nineteen hundred, and a memorable year it hasbeen. How many new scenes and how great the changes through which wehave passed! What will the New Year bring? Where will we be next year atthis time? It is probably better that we do not know the future. 

New Year's Day, nineteen hundred and one. This has been a good day allaround, after our midnight watch meeting, when seven of the eightpersons present took a part, and we sang many songs with the organ. Athalf-past twelve I retired, but the others remained up until twoo'clock. 

This evening the storekeeper and two others from White Mountain calledto see if we did not care to go out coasting on the hill behind theMission, and five or six of us went. When we got to the top of the hillthe wind was so strong that I could hardly stand, and after a few tripsdown the Hill we gave it up, part of our number going out to walk uponthe ice, and the rest of us going indoors. The men were invited into theMission, and stayed for an hour, chatting pleasantly, as there is noplace for them to go except to the saloons. It is a great pity thatthere is no reading room with papers and books for the miners, with thelong winter before them, and nothing to do. There is a crying need forsomething in this line, and if they do not employ their time pleasantlyand profitably, they will spend it unprofitably in some saloon orgambling place. I wish I had a thousand good magazines to scatter, but Ihave none. 

I gave Jennie her lesson, and amused both children for a time thisafternoon. Yesterday the snow drifted badly, and I fear the people whowent to Council will not have a good trail on the way home. 

January second: It is pleasant to have a corner by myself in which towrite and be sometimes alone. The little northeast corner room where Isleep has a tile pipe coming up from the kitchen, making the room warmenough except in the coldest weather. It has a north window with nodouble one outside, and when the wind comes from the north I expect itwill be extremely cold. From this window I can see (when the glass isfree from frost) out upon the trail to Nome and White Mountain. Todaythere is water on the ice, and it has been raining and blowing. Three ofthe boys returned from a four days' prospecting trip to the west, and astwo of them had been sick the whole time since they left here, they camein wet, tired and hungry, without having much good luck to relate. Itold them it was something to get back at all again, and they agreedheartily, while eating a hot supper. An hour later and Mr. H. With thevisiting preacher came in from the reindeer station, and their stakingtrip, in the same condition as the three boys had been; so a supper forthem was also prepared. 

Our kitchen looks like a junk shop these days, and a wet one at that, for the numbers of muckluks, fur parkies, mittens, and other garmentshung around the stove to dry are almost past counting, and the odor isstifling; but the clothing must be dried somewhere, and there is noother place. An engine room would be the very best spot I know fordrying so many wet furs, and I wish we had one here. 

In speaking to one of the men today about prospecting my claim, I toldhim I would furnish the grub, but he said very kindly, "I wouldn't takeany grub from you. I've got enough, and shall be at work there any way, so it won't take long to sink some holes in your claim, " which I thoughtwas very good of him. I hope they will "strike it" rich. 

January third: A wet, sloppy, snowy day, our "January thaw, " Mr. H. Says. I took the two children out on the sled upon the ice and pushed atthe handle-bars until I was reeking with perspiration, afterwards givingJennie her lesson at her auntie's. 

There are twelve of us under the Mission roof tonight, including Miss E. And the native. 

January fourth: These are great days. We have a houseful of men, nine inall, and some are getting ready to leave tomorrow to do some staking ofclaims up near the station. M. Said if the musician were only here, andthey could get a dog-team, he would like to get him to go with him on astaking trip not far away. This man returned soon afterward, and M. Wanted me to ask him if he would go. I did so, and he replied that hewould go, and furnish dogs if possible; but the ones he tried to getwere engaged, and that plan fell through, much to his discouragement. Learning this, I determined to go to the captain at the hotel, and seeif I could procure dogs from him for the trip. He said yes, I could havehis best dogs, and that a mail carrier is here resting who will lend ushis dogs, so that was all arranged. 

Location papers then had to be written out, grub boxes packed, a tentlooked up, and many things attended to before they left, so that othersin camp got an inkling of what was being done and wanted to go along. Then M. And the musician decided to put off going until midnight, whenthey would sneak quietly out of camp with their dogs and scamper awayamong the hills without the others knowing it, but it could not be done, and two or three sleds followed them at midnight in the moonlight, as isthe custom with Alaska "stampeders. "

January fifth: Mollie asked me today to go with her to visit her foxtraps, and I immediately decided to go. We started about half-past onein the afternoon, on foot past the cliff, but when we had gone a shortdistance Mollie stopped to call back to the house. Some native boys werecutting wood at the north door, and she motioned one to come to her. When he came, she spoke to him in Eskimo, and he, assenting to what shesaid, ran back again. 

"I tell Muky to come with dog-team, bring us home, you get tired by andby, " she said thoughtfully, as we trudged on again over and through thesnow. The woman wore a reindeer parkie, short skirt, and muckluks, andcarried a gun on her shoulder. The snow was quite a foot deep, with acrust on top which we broke at almost every step, and which made it hardwalking. On we "mushed, " past the cliff, the boats, and out upon theice. The traps had been set by Mollie a week before on the northeastshore of the bay among a few low bushes, and this was our objectivepoint. When we reached the first trap, which was buried in snow, butfound by a certain shrub which Mollie had in some way marked and nowrecognized, I threw myself upon the snow to rest and watch hermovements. 

Around us we saw plenty of ptarmigan tracks, but no signs of foxes. Afoot below the snow's surface, Mollie found her trap, and proceeded toreset it. Carefully covering the trap with a very little light snow andsmoothing it nicely over, she chipped off bits of reindeer meat from ascrap she had brought with her, scattering them invitingly around. 

The scene about us was a very quiet one and wintry in the extreme. Long, low hills stretched out on every side of the bay, and the whole earthwas a great snow heap. The sky and cloud effects were charming, fadingsunshine on the hilltops making them softly pink, and very lovely; butwith deep reddish purple tints over all as the sun-ball disappeared. 

One after another, four fox traps in different places were reset byMollie, while I mushed on behind her. 

At last we saw the dog-team and Muky coming on the bay. Five dogs he hadhitched to his sled, and each wore a tiny bell at its throat, making apretty din as they trotted. When the woman had finished her trapping, weboth climbed into the sled, the native running and calling to the dogs, and they started for home. It was not a long ride, probably not morethan a mile and a half as we went, but while tramping through the snowcrust to the traps it seemed much longer. 

I now thoroughly enjoyed the novel ride. In the dusky twilight the dogstrotted cheerfully homeward, obeying the musical calls of their driver, and the little bells jingled merrily. Darker and more purple grew theskies until they tinted the snow over which we were passing, and by thetime we had halted before the hotel door it was really night. 

By the clock it was fifteen minutes past four and the thermometerregistered fifteen degrees below zero. Then we toasted our feet beforethe big heater, removed and shook out our frosty furs, and answered thetwo children's questions. To these Mollie gave her explanations inEskimo, and I told of the ptarmigan tracks I had seen on the snowdrifts. 

Sunday, January sixth: Yesterday I moved into the little southeast roomwhich was formerly Miss J. 's. It has pretty paper on the walls, and asmall heater in one corner, besides a single cot, and I soon settledquite comfortably. The room with the bunks was needed for the men, ofwhom there are so many most of the time. The room I now have has a southwindow, but not a double one, and gets heavy with frost, which remainson the panes; but I can have a fire when I want one, as the stove burnschips and short wood, of which there are always quantities in the shed. B. Tells me to use all the wood I want, as there is no shortage of fuel, nor men to haul and cut it, which I think is very kind. A little firewhile I am dressing nights and mornings, however, is all I shall try tokeep burning. 

Miss J. Came with Ivan, bringing several native children to visit theirparents for a few hours, but took them back with her after supper whenthe meeting was over, which she had held in the kitchen. We had sixteento supper, including natives. Afterward we went down to the beach to seethe party off for the Home. Ivan led the dogs, five in number, hitchedto the big sled. Miss J. Ran alongside, the visiting preacher at thehandle bar, and the little children on the sled. After watching themoff, we came home and then took a walk of a mile out upon the ice on theWhite Mountain trail, which was in fairly good condition. There weresix of us. When we got back to the house, I played by request on theorgan, for the three Swedish visitors from Council. 

The weather is bright and beautiful, and sixteen degrees below zero. 

Monday, January seventh: The boys came in from their stampede to thecreeks, and M. Says they staked us all rich if there is anything good inthe ground. My claim is Number Ten, below Discovery, on H. Creek, andsounds well, if nothing more. Of course we women are all much elated, and talk of "our claims" very glibly, but a few sunken prospect holeswill tell the story of success or failure better than anything else. 

This has been a busy day in the house until I went at half-past two inthe afternoon to Mollie's to find her ill in bed with a very bad throat. I gave Jennie and Charlie two hours of my time, and went home, to returnin the evening at Mollie's request. The poor woman was sufferingseverely, and I did what I could for her, rubbing her throat withcamphorated oil and turpentine and wrapping it in thick, hot flannels. Then I assisted her to bed, rubbing her aching bones, and left her lessfeverish than when I went in. The thermometer is above zero, and theweather is pleasant. 

Two men from Topkok came in to see the Recorder's books, and searchedall through them without finding what they wanted and expected to find, and then went away with sober and disappointed faces. "Curses not loudbut deep" come to our ears each day about the Commissioner's work ofrecording, and many say he is now deep in dissipation at Nome, insteadof attending here to his business as he should. Miners declare himunfitted in every way for his position, and affirm that they will deposehim from office. 

I went out this morning and bought a student lamp at the store, payingsix dollars and a half for it. This, with my case of coal oil, willlight my room nicely, besides giving a good deal of heat. 

The Marshal and men are home from the Koyuk River, after four weeks ofwinter "mushing, " and say nothing about their trip. They did not manageto pull harmoniously together, and Mr. L. Returned before them. 

January ninth: When I went today to the hotel to teach my pupils, Ifound the men in the room cleaning the big heater, and ashes and dirtdrove us out of the place, so we went upstairs to another room in whichMollie sometimes sews, and where we found her at work on a white parkiefor the musician. I played with Jennie for a time before the lesson, andAgeetuk came in on an errand, while Polly, the Eskimo servant, jabberedin a funny way and wabbled over the floor like a duck, as is her habitwhen walking. This girl is short, fat and shapeless, with beady blackeyes, and a crafty expression, certainly not to be relied on if there istruth in physiognomy. 

At the hotel all is excitement and bustle, getting the men off for theKuskokquim River, where the new strikes are reported. Strong new sledshave been made by the natives, grub is being packed and dogs gotten intocondition, besides a thousand other things which must be done before theexpedition is ready to start. Seeing them make such extensivepreparations reminded me that perhaps I might get the men to carry mypaper and stake something for me, so, plucking up my courage, I askedthe promoter of the expedition, whom I know, if I could do this, and wasreadily given permission. In a few minutes paper, pen and ink werebrought in, a clerk was instructed to draw up the paper in proper shape, which he did, and it was signed and witnessed in due form, Molliesubscribing her name as one of the witnesses. For this I tendered myheartiest thanks, and ran home with a light heart, already imaginingmyself a lucky claim owner in a new and rich gold section on theKuskokquim. The party of five men are to leave tomorrow morning for thelong trip of several hundred miles over the ice and snow. 

Mollie advises me to have another pair of muckluks made smaller, and tokeep these I am wearing for traveling, when I will wear more insidethem, so I will take my materials over tomorrow and she will have Alicecut and sew them for me. I hope they will not make my feet look soclumsy as do these, my first ones. 

January tenth: This was a cold and windy morning, so the men at thehotel could not start out for the Kuskokquim as they intended. Some mencame to the Mission to see if they could rent the old schoolhouse tolive in, the doctor and his plucky little wife having left some weeksago for a camp many miles east of Chinik. After looking it over, the menhave concluded to take it, and move in soon. There are no buildings tobuy or rent in this camp, nor anything with which to build, so it ishard lines for strangers coming to Chinik. This afternoon Alma went overwith me to the hotel to stitch on Mollie's sewing machine, and I carriedthe deerskin for my new footgear which Alice will make acceptably, nodoubt, as she is very expert. 

Mr. H. , two natives and two white men, were here to supper tonight ontheir way to Nome by dog-team, and are wishing to start at three in themorning in order to make the trip in two days. M. And L. Are also here, so we had seven men to supper. We had fried ham, beans, stewed prunes, tea, and bread and butter. 

This morning it was two degrees below zero, with a strong, cold wind;tonight it is fourteen degrees below zero with no wind, and is warmernow than then. No moonlight till nearly morning, but the stars shinebrightly. 

January eleventh: Mary sat up all night baking bread, and starting themen off for Nome between three and four in the morning. I got up atnine o'clock and enjoyed the magnificent sunrise. I went out with Rickawhile she tried at the three stores to find a lining for her fur coat, but one clerk told us that no provision for women was made by thecompanies, and they had nothing on their shelves she wanted. At thehotel store she found some dark green calico at twenty-five cents ayard, which she was obliged to take for her lining. 

While I gave Jennie her lesson her mother came from her hunting, and hadshot six ptarmigan, having hurt her finger on the trigger of the gun. Mollie studies a little while each day, when Jennie has finished herlesson. 

There is a sick Eskimo woman here now who was brought in from thereindeer camp yesterday, and Mollie has her upstairs in the sewing roomon a cot. Mary, the nurse, went over with me to see her, and says shehas rheumatic fever. She seems to be suffering very much, and cannotmove her hands or limbs. 

January twelfth: At eight o'clock today the thermometer stood atforty-one degrees below zero, but registered thirty-two degrees duringthe middle of the day, and the houses are not so warm as they have been. 

When I called for Jennie at the hotel today I found her crying with painin her leg, so she could not take a lesson, but I sent out for littleCharlie who came running to me with outstretched arms. He is a dearlittle child, and I am getting very fond of him. It is some weeks sinceJennie first began crying occasionally with pain, and her parents cannotunderstand it, unless it is caused by a fall she had on the steamercoming from San Francisco last summer, and of which they thought nothingat the time. I sincerely hope she is not going to be very ill, with nodoctor nearer than White Mountain. The sick woman still suffers, thoughthey are doing what they can for her. The captain requested me to bringour medical books over, or send them, that he can look up remedies andtreatment of rheumatic fever, for that is what she no doubt has. 

While seated at the organ an hour later, in came the storekeeper and hisclerk, followed soon after by the captain and musician. Then we hadmusic and solos by the last named gentleman, and the knitting needleskept rapidly flying. At eleven o'clock they went out into the intensecold, which sparkled like diamonds, but which pinched like nippers theexposed faces and hands. 

Here is another cold, quiet day, with the thermometer at thirty-fivedegrees below zero, and it is a first class one to spend by the fire. Wehave read, slept, eaten, and fed the fires; with only one man, threegirls and myself in the house. At ten in the evening G. And B. Came infrom a five days "mushing" trip on the trails, being nearly starved andfrozen. They were covered with snow and icicles, their shirts and coatsstiff with frost from steam of their bodies, as they ran behind thesled to keep warm. A hot supper of chicken (canned), coffee, and breadand butter was prepared in haste for them, and they toasted themselvesuntil bedtime. 

CHAPTER XXII. 

THE LITTLE SICK CHILD. 

The winter is rapidly passing, and so far without monotony, though whatit will bring to us before spring remains to be seen. Little Jennie hasbeen suffering more and more with her leg of late, and her papa sent forthe doctor at White Mountain, who came today by dog-team. The child'smother has had a spring cot made for her, and she was put to bed by thedoctor, who says the knee trouble is a very serious one, and she musthave good nursing, attention being also paid to her diet. The Eskimosare all exceedingly fond of seal and reindeer meat, and Jennie's AuntieApuk or grandmother will often bring choice tidbits to the child atbedtime, or between meals, when she ought not to eat anything, much lesssuch hearty food. When the little child sees the good things, she, ofcourse, wants them, and having been humored in every whim, she muststill be, she thinks, especially when she is ill. A problem then is herepresented which I may help to solve for them. Jennie and I are growingvery fond of each other, and she will do some things for me which shewill not do for others who have obeyed her wishes so long. I begin byround-about coaxing and reasoning, and get some other idea into hermind, until the plate of seal meat is partially forgotten, and does notseem so attractive at nine in the evening as when presented with lovingsmiles by her old grandmother, who does sometimes resent thealternative, but is still exceedingly solicitous that the little girlshould recover. As grandmother understands English imperfectly, Mollieis obliged to reiterate the doctor's orders in Eskimo, making them asimperative as possible, and the poor old Eskimo woman goes home with thepromise that Jennie shall have some of the dainties at meal-time on themorrow. 

In appearance grandmother is still somewhat rugged, being a large woman, with an intelligent face, which expresses very forcibly her innerfeelings, and being, probably, somewhere between sixty and seventy yearsof age. Her husband, who has been dead only a year or two, was muchbeloved by her, and no reference to him is ever made in her presence, without a flow of tears from her eyes. Her love of home and kindredseems very strong, and her devotion to little Jennie amounts almost toidolatry, so the solicitude expressed by the good woman is only a partof what she really feels, but which is shown in hundreds of ways. Whenthe doctor settled the little girl in her bed she adjusted a heavyweight to the foot on the limb which has given her so much trouble, andnow the grief of Mollie and her mother is unbounded. Poor oldgrandmother wipes her eyes continually, leaving the house quickly attimes to rush home and mourn alone, as she is so constrained to do, hersorrow for her darling's sufferings being very sincere. Later she comesin after doing her best at courage building, tiptoes her way in to seeif her pet is sleeping or awake, and bringing something if possible, with which to amuse or interest the invalid. However great is the griefof the women, that of the child's papa is equally sad to see, and he, poor man, is forced to face the probability of a long and dreary winter, if not a lifetime of suffering for his darling child. One cannot helpseeing his misery, though he tries like a Trojan to hide it, and keepsas cheerful as possible to encourage others. He is always an invalidhimself. 

The main topic of interest to Jennie now is the little stranger who hascome to live with her Auntie Apuk, and whom she is so desirous of seeingthat she almost forgets her trouble and suffering, asking constantlyabout its size, color, eyes, hair, hands and feet. She counts the daysbefore she can see it, and puzzles greatly over the fact of its notpossessing a name, her big black eyes getting larger and blacker as shewonders where one will be found. Little Charlie is allowed in to seeJennie at times, and wonders greatly to find her always in bed, askingmany questions in his childish Eskimo treble, and patting her handsympathetically while standing at her side. 

"Mamma, " said he the other day to Mollie in Eskimo, with a pleased smileon his face, and when the two were alone, "the ladie loves me. "

"How do you know?" asked Mollie. 

"Because, " he said shyly, putting his little arms about her neck, "because she kissed me. " Whereupon Mollie did the same, and assured himof her own love, always providing, of course, that he was a good boy, and did what papa and mamma told him to do. 

This conversation Mollie reported to me a few days after it took place, and I assured her with tears welling up in my eyes that the little childhad made no mistake. Strange action of the subjective mind of one personover another, even to the understanding by this Eskimo baby of astranger heart, and that one so unresponsive as mine. The child, deprived as he was of an own mother's love, still hungered and thirstedfor it, and he was quick to discern in my eyes and voice the secret forwhich he was looking. How I should enjoy giving my whole time to thesetwo children, and they really do need me to teach and care for them; butI am dividing myself between them and the Mission, and the winter daysare very short. 

The thermometer today registered fourteen degrees below zero, againsttwenty-eight yesterday and thirty below the day before that. 

Mr. H. Has returned from Nome, bringing me a package of kodak films sentfrom Oakland, Cal. , last August, and which I never expected to receiveafter so long a time. I was delighted to get them, and now I can kodakthis whole district, above and below. 

Mollie is trying to study English a little, but with many interruptionson every hand. The big living room is light and warm, our only studyplace, and yet the rendezvous of all who care to drop in, regardless ofinvitations, making it somewhat difficult for us to concentrate ourattention on the lessons. The Marshal, the bartender, the clerks, cooks, miners, natives, strangers and all come into this room to chat, see andinquire for Jennie, play with Charlie, and get warm by the fire. Here isan opportunity of a lifetime to study human nature, and I am glad, forit is a subject always full of interest to me, though I frequently feelliterally choked with tobacco smoke, and wish often for a privatesitting-room. 

Sunday, January twentieth: We are snuggled indoors by the fires underthe most terrible blizzard of the season so far, with furious gales, falling and drifting snow, and intense cold. It is impossible to keepthe house as warm as usual, and I have eaten my meals today dressed inmy fur coat, my seat at table being at the end with my back close to thefrosty north window. Though this is the place of honor at the board, andthe missionary's seat when he eats in the Mission, still it is a chillyberth on occasions, and this is decidedly one. 

The dining-room contains, besides the north window, one on the southside as well, and though both are covered with storm windows, the frostand ice is several inches thick upon the panes, precluding anypossibility of receiving light from either quarter unless the sun shinesvery brightly indeed, and then only a subdued light is admitted. Duringthe night the house shook constantly in the terrific gale, rattlingloose boards and shingles, and I was kept awake for several hours. 

At night I am in the habit of tossing my fur coat upon my bed for thewarmth there is in it, as I am not the possessor of a fur robe, as allpersons should be who winter here. Furs are the only things to keep theintense cold out in such weather as we are now having, but with somemanagement I get along fairly well. 

A reindeer skin not in use from the attic makes my bed soft and warmunderneath, my coat over my blankets answers the same purpose, and thewhite fox baby robe from the old wooden cradle upstairs makes a soft, warm rug on the floor upon which to step out in the morning. Woolslippers are never off my feet when my muckluks are resting, and Imanage by keeping a supply of kindlings and small wood in my box by thestove, to have a warm fire by which to dress. 

These days we do not often rise early, and ten o'clock frequently findsus at breakfast, but we retire correspondingly late, and midnight isquite a customary hour lately. Today we passed the time in eating, sleeping, singing, and reading. A visiting Swedish preacher came over afew days ago from the Home, and is storm-bound in the Mission. He is alarge, heavy man, with a hearty voice and hand grip, and is a graduateof Yale College, using the best of English, having filled one of thevacant Nome pulpits for several weeks last fall before coming toGolovin. 

Today he has read one of Talmage's sermons to us, and we have sungGospel songs galore, in both Swedish and English, with myself asorganist. When this is tired of, the smaller instruments are taken out, and Ricka has the greatest difficulty in preventing Alma from amusingthe assembled company with her mandolin solo, "Johnny Get Your HairCut, " the young lady's red lips growing quite prominent while sheinsists upon playing it. 

"Good music is always acceptable, Ricka, and on Sunday as well as on anyother day, so I cannot see why you will not let me play as I want to. Ido not think it a sin to play on the mandolin on Sunday. Do you, PastorF. ?" asked Alma of the preacher, appealingly, and in all innocence. 

What could he say to her? He laughed. 

"O, no, " said Ricka, "I do not say that mandolin music is sinful onSunday, and if you would play 'Nearer My God to Thee, ' or some suchpiece, and not play 'Johnny, ' I should not object. " And she now lookedat the preacher and me for reinforcements. 

Alma is not, however, easily put down, and the contest usually winds upwith Ricka going into the kitchen where she cannot hear the sillystrains of "Johnny, " which Alma is picking abstractedly from the stringsof the instrument, while the preacher continues his reading, and I gooff to my room. 

Mr. Q. , a Swedish missionary, and his native preacher called Rock, havearrived from Unalaklik, with the two visiting preachers at the Home, andthey held an evening service in the schoolhouse, which was fairly wellattended. There were seven white men, the three women in this house andmyself, besides many natives of both sexes. Grandmother was there withAlice, Ageetuk and others, and the missionary spoke well and feelinglyin English, interpreted by Rock into Eskimo. One of the preachers sang asolo, and presided at the organ. Some of the native women present hadwith them their babies, and these, away from home in the evening, contrary to their usual habit, cried and nestled around a good deal, andhad to be comforted in various ways, both substantial and otherwise, during the evening; but the speakers were accustomed to all that, andwere thankful to have as listeners the poor mothers, who probably couldnot have come without the youngsters. 

Considerable will power and auto-suggestion is needed to enable me toendure the fumes of seal oil along with other smells which areconstantly arising from the furs and bodies of the Eskimos, made damp, perhaps, by the snow which has lodged upon them before entering theroom. Fire we must have. Those who are continually with the natives inthese gatherings do get "acclimated, " but I am having a hard strugglealong these lines. 

The three Swedish and one Eskimo preacher left today for the Home, afterI had taken a kodak view of them, and their dog-team. As the wind blewcold and stiffly from the northwest, they hoisted a sail made of an oldblanket upon their sled. 

There are many who are ingenious, and who are glad to help the sickchild, Jennie, pass her time pleasantly, and among them is the musician. Being a clever artist as well as musician, he goes often to sit besideJennie, and then slate and pencils are brought out, and the drawingbegins. Indian heads, Eskimo children in fur parkies, summer landscapes, anything and everything takes its turn upon the slate, which appears areal kaleidoscope under the artist's hands. Jennie often laughs till thetears run down her face at some comical drawing or story, or themusician's efforts to speak Eskimo as she does, and both enjoythemselves immensely. 

Yesterday Mollie went out to hunt for ptarmigan. She is exceedinglyfond of gunning, has great success, and she and the child relish thesetasty birds better than anything else at this season. Ageetuk also is agood hunter and trapper, and brought in two red foxes from her trapsyesterday, when she came home from her outing with Mollie. LittleCharlie ran up to Mollie on her return from her hunt, and cried in amixture of Eskimo and English:

"Foxes peeluk, Mamma?" meaning to ask if she did not secure any animals, appearing disappointed when told by his mamma (for such she callsherself to the child) that she did not find anything today butptarmigan. 

It was twenty degrees below zero this morning, and the sun wasbeautifully bright. The days are growing longer, and it is quite lightat eight o'clock in the morning. The short days have never been tiresometo me because we have not lacked for fuel and lights, and have keptoccupied. 

One of the Commissioners and two or three other men have been trying fora long time to get their meals here, but the girls have pleaded toolittle room, and other excuses, until now the Commissioner has returned, and renewed his requests. Today he came over and left word that he andtwo others would be here to six o'clock supper, at which the girls werewrathy. 

"I guess he will wait a long time before I cook his meals for him, "sputtered Alma, who disliked the coming of the official to the house, and under no consideration would she consent to board him. 

"My time is too short to cook for a man like that, " declared Mary, witha toss of her head, as she settled herself in the big arm chair in thesitting room, and poor Ricka, whose turn it was this week to prepare themeals, found herself in the embarrassing position of compulsory cook forat least two of the men she most heartily despised in the camp, and thistoo under the displeasure of both Alma and Mary. 

"What shall I do?" groaned Ricka, appealing to me in her extremity. "Will you sit at table with them tonight, Mrs. Sullivan? because Almaand Mary will not, and I must pour the coffee. O, dear, what shall Ihave for supper?" and the poor girl looked fairly bowed down withanxiety. 

"O, never mind them, Ricka, " said I, "just give them what you hadintended to give the rest of us. I suppose they think this is aroadhouse, and, if so, they can as well board here as others; but ifAlma refuses to take them, I do not see what they can do but keep away, "argued I, knowing both Alma and Mary too well by this time to expectthem to change their verdict, as, indeed, I had no desire for them todo. 

"I'm sure it is not a roadhouse for men of their class, " growled Alma, biting her thread off with a snap, for she was sewing on Mollie's dress, and did not wish to be hindered. "I'll not eat my supper tonight tillthey have eaten; will you, Mary?"

"Indeed, I will not, " was the reply from a pair of very set lips, atwhich Ricka and I retired to the kitchen to consult together, andprepare the much-talked-of meal. 

Then I proceeded to spread the table with a white cloth and napkins, arrange the best chairs, and make the kitchen as presentable as I couldwith lamps, while Ricka went to work at the range. We had a passablesupper, but not nearly so good as we usually have, for the official hadnot only taken us by surprise, but had come unbidden, and was not, (bythe express orders of the business head of the restaurant firm), to bemade welcome. 

At any rate, Ricka and I did the best we could under the circumstances, the meal passed in some way, and the official then renewed his requestto be allowed to take all his meals in the Mission, meeting with nothingbut an unqualified refusal, much to his evident disappointment. 

I doubt very much now the probability of my getting any more copying todo for him, as he says I could have persuaded Alma to board him if I hadbeen so inclined; but then I never was so inclined, and have aboutdecided that I do not want his work at any price. 

January twenty-fifth: This has been a very cold, windy day, but three ofthe men came in from prospecting on the creeks, and have little toreport. To think of living in tents, or even native igloos, in suchweather for any length of time whatever, is enough to freeze one'smarrow, and I think the men deserve to "strike it rich" to repay themfor so much discomfort and suffering. Mr. L. And B. Walked to the Homeand back today--twenty-four miles in the cold. I bought two more foxskins of the storekeeper with which to make my coat longer. 

Mr. H. And Miss J. Came to hold a meeting in the kitchen for thenatives, and Mollie interpreted for them, as Ivan was not present. Theyall enjoy singing very much, and are trying to learn some new songs. Contrary to my expectations, they learn the tunes before they do thewords, which are English, of course. 

Later the musician came over and sang and played for an hour and a halfat the organ, which all in the house enjoyed; but he is worried abouthis friend, who was bitten by the mad-dog, and is in poor health, hetold us tonight. They have lately moved into the old schoolhouse, andlike there better than their former lodgings, which were very cold. There are three of them in the schoolhouse, or rather cabin, for it isan old log building, with dirt roof, upon which the grass and weeds growtall in summer, and under the eaves of the new schoolhouse, a framestructure with a small pointed tower. 

Sunday, January twenty-seventh: The missionaries held a meeting in thesitting room this forenoon at which the Commissioner was present, notbecause he was interested in the service, Alma says. I suppose he hadnothing else to do, and happened to get up earlier than usual. Ipresided at the organ, and Miss J. Led the singing. The day was a verybright one, but the thermometer registered thirty degrees below zero. 

The missionaries have taken Alma with them to visit for a few days, anddo some sewing at the Home. We all ran out upon the ice with them, butdid not go far, as it was very cold. For a low mercury these people donot stay indoors, but go about as they like dressed from top to toe infurs, and do not suffer; but let the wind blow a stiff gale, and it isnot the same proposition. 

Four men came from the camp of the shipwrecked people, the father ofFreda, the little girl, being one. They say the child and her mother arewell, and as comfortable as they can be made for the present, but in thespring they will go back to Nome. 

CHAPTER XXIII. 

LIGHTS AND SHADOWS OF THE MINING CAMP. 

Again the boys are starting for the Koyuk River country. Although it isthe twenty-eighth of January, and between twenty-five and thirty degreesbelow zero, nothing can deter Mr. L. , who has made up his mind to go tothe headwaters of the big river regardless of weather. L. , B. And anative are to compose the party, and this time they are going withreindeer. They will take with them a tent, stove, fur sleeping bags, matches, "grub, " guns and ammunition, not to mention fry pans and a fewtins for cooking purposes. Then they must each take a change of wearingapparel in case of accident, and make the loads as light as possible. B. Has made it a point to look well at his guns and cartridges, and hasbeen for days cleaning, rubbing and polishing, while hunting knives havealso received attention. The party may have, in some way, to depend uponthese weapons for their lives before their return. 

January twenty-ninth: Twenty-five degrees below zero, but without wind, and the boys have started off on their long trip up the Koyuk. Thereindeer were fresh and lively, and when everything was loaded andlashed upon the three sleds, the animals were hitched to them, when, presto! the scene was changed in a moment. Each deer ran in severaldirections at the same time as if demented, overturning sleds and men, tossing up the snow like dust under their hoofs, and flinging theirantlers about like implements of battle. Now each man was put to hiswit's end to keep hold of the rope attached to the horns of the deer hewas driving, and we who had gone out upon the ice to watch the departurefeared greatly for the lives of the men interested. 

At one time Mr. H. , who was kindly assisting, was flung upon the ground, while a rearing, plunging animal was poised in mid-air above him; and Iuttered a shriek of terror at the sight, thinking he would be instantlykilled. However, he was upon his feet in an instant, and pursuing theanimals, still clinging to the rope, as the deer must never, under anyconsideration, be allowed to get away with the loaded sleds. 

When one of the boys attempted to sit upon a load, holding the rope as aguide in his hands, there would be a whisk, a whirl, and quicker than aflash over would go the load, sled and man, rolling over and over like afootball on a college campus. 

At this time the sun shone out brightly, tinting rosily the distanthills, and spreading a carpet of light under our feet upon theice-covered surface of the bay. The clear, cold air we breathed wasfairly exhilarating, sparkling like diamonds in the sun-beams, andcausing the feathery snowflakes under our feet to crackle with adelightful crispness. 

When the elasticity of the reindeer's spirits had been somewhat lessenedby exercise, a real start was made, and we watched them until only smalldots on the distant trail could be distinguished. 

Something unpleasant has happened. M. , the Finlander, told me thismorning that he wants the room I occupy upstairs, and, of course, I willhave to give it up. As the other rooms upstairs must be left for themen, of whom there are such numbers, there is no place for me except onthe old wooden settle in the sitting room. To be sure, this is in a warmcorner, but there are many and serious inconveniences, one being that Imust of necessity be the last one to retire, and this is usuallymidnight. 

For some time past I have been turning over in my mind the advisabilityof asking for the situation of nurse and teacher to Jennie and Charlie, and living in the hotel. Supplies are growing shorter in the Mission asthe weeks go by, and my own are about exhausted, as is also my money. The children need me, and there is plenty of room in the hotel, though Iam not fond of living in one. 

I have consulted Mr. H. , who sees no harm in my doing this if I want to. Meals are one dollar each everywhere in Chinik, and most kinds of"grub" one dollar a pound, while for a lodging the same is charged. Toearn my board and room in the hotel by teaching and taking care of thetwo children I should be making an equivalent to four dollars a day, andI could have a room, at last, to myself. This is the way I have figuredit out; whether Mollie and the Captain will see it in the same lightremains to be seen. 

Later: I ran over to see Mollie and her husband, and to present my planto them. They both assented quickly, the Captain saying he does not wantJennie to stop her studies, and she is fond of having me with her. Besides, her mother wants to spend a good deal of time out hunting andtrapping, as she thinks it better for Jennie, Charlie and herself tohave fresh game, of which they are so fond, than to eat canned meats. Ithink it is better for them, and shall not object to some of the samefare myself when it is plenty. I am very glad, indeed, of theopportunity to earn my board and room in this way, for my work will onlybe with and for the two children, and I love them very much. 

January thirtieth: A bad storm came up this afternoon with wind andsnow. At the Mission one of the newcomers is making two strong reindeersleds. He says he is used to Alaska winters, has been up into theKotzebue Sound country, and is now going again with reindeer as soon ashis sleds are finished. He is exceedingly fond of music, and enjoys myplaying. I wonder if he will offer to stake a claim for me! I will notask him. 

January thirty-first: This terrible storm continues with snow driftingbadly, and with wind most bitter cold. What about the boys on the Koyuktrail? I fear they will freeze to death. I have finished six drillparkies for the storekeeper, but cannot get them to him in the blizzard. 

February first: I found when calling upon Jennie today that her motherwas sick in bed with a very bad throat, so I spent most of the day andevening there. I did all I could for Jennie as well as Mollie, doing mybest to amuse the child, who is still strapped down on her bed, and mustfind the day long, though she has a good deal of company. I had afirst-class six o'clock dinner at the hotel tonight, --that is, forAlaska, at this season of the year. 

February second: This is my birthday, and I have been thinking of mydear old mother so far away, who never forgets the date of her onlydaughter's birth, even if I do. I should like to see her, or, at least, have her know how well I am situated, and how contented I am, with aprospect before me which is as bright as that of most persons in thisvicinity. If I could send my mother a telegram of a dozen words, I thinkthey would read like this: "I am well and happy, with fair prospects. God is good. " I think that would cheer her considerably. 

It is beginning to seem a little like spring, and the water is runningdown the walls and off the windows in rivers upon the floors of theMission, which we are glad are bare of carpets; the snow having siftedinto the attic and melted. The warm rain comes down at intervals, and weare hoping for an early spring. 

Mollie is really very sick, and must have a doctor, her throat beingterribly swollen on one side. The pain and fever is intense, and thoughwe are doing all we know how to do, she gets no better. Some men startedout for the doctor at White Mountain, but there was too much water onthe ice, and they returned. 

February sixth: The man who made the two reindeer sleds for his Kotzebuetrip has gone at last with two loads and three reindeer. He wanted hisdrill parkie hood bordered with fur, as I had done some belonging toothers, and I furnished the fox tails, and sewed them on for him. 

"Shall I stake a claim for you?" asked the man with a smile the daybefore he left the Mission. 

"O, I would like it so much!" said I, really delighted. "I did not wishto ask you, because I thought you had promised so many. "

"So I have, " he replied, "but I guess I can stake for one more, and if Ifind anything good I will remember you. "

"Shall I have a paper made out?" I inquired, feeling it would be saferand better from a business point of view to do so. 

"You may if you like. I will take it, " said he; and I thanked him verycordially, and hastened to the Commissioner to have the paper drawn up. It did not take long, and the man has taken it, and gone. Being an oldmail carrier and stampeder of experience in this country, he ought toknow how to travel, and, being a Norwegian, he is well used to the snowand the cold. He says he always travels alone, though I told him hemight sometime get lost in a storm and freeze to death, at which he onlylaughed, and said he was not at all afraid. Two years afterwards he wasfrozen to death on the trail near Teller City, northwest of Nome. He wasan expert on snowshoes or ski, both of which he learned to use when aboy in Norway. 

February tenth: The two young men, B. And L. , have returned from theKoyuk trip, having been able to travel only three days of the elevensince they left here on account of blizzards, but they will not give itup in this way. 

Mollie and Jennie are better, the doctor having been here two days. Forthe little invalid there is nothing of such interest as Apuk's baby, andas the child is well wrapped and brought in often to see her, she ishighly delighted. She holds the baby in her arms, and hushes it to sleepas any old woman might, lifting a warning finger if one enters the roomwith noise, for fear of waking it. Little Charlie cries with whoopingcough a great deal and is taken to Ageetuk's house when he getstroublesome, as he worries both Mollie and Jennie. Under noconsideration is Charlie to come near enough to Jennie to give her thewhooping-cough, for she coughs badly already. She and I make paper dollsby the dozen, and cloth dresses for her real dolls, which, so late inthe season, are getting quite dilapidated and look as though they hadbeen in the wars. 

Many natives are now bringing beautiful furs into camp for sale, andamong others one man brought a cross fox which was black, tipped withyellow, another which was a lovely brown, and a black fox valued at twohundred dollars which the owner refused to sell for less, though offeredone hundred for it. I have never seen more lovely furs anywhere, and Ilonged to possess them. 

It seems almost like having a hospital here now, for we have anotherpatient added to our sick list. Joe, the cook, is ill, and thinks hewill die, though the doctor smiles quizzically as she doses him, thinking as she does so that a few days in bed and away from the saloonswill be as beneficial as her prescriptions. 

Today the hills surrounding the bay were lovely in the warm sunshineboth morning and evening, pink tinted in the sunrise and purple asnight approached. 

Mail came in by dog-team from Nome, going to Dawson and the outside, soI mailed several letters. I wonder if they will be carried two thousandmiles by dogs--the whole length of the Yukon, and finally reach Skagwayand Seattle. 

What a wicked world this is anyway! My two fox skins were stolen fromthe living room of the hotel last night, where I hung them, not far fromthe stove, after having had them tanned, and forgetting to take them tomy room. I can get no trace of them, and am exceedingly sorry to losethem. The captain thinks the skins will be returned, but I do not. 

The Commissioner from Council came into the hotel, and he, with theresident official, proceeded to celebrate the occasion by gettinguproariously drunk, or going, as it is here called, "on a toot, " whichis very truthfully expressive, to say the least. 

February eighteenth: The doctor went home several days ago. Mollie isbetter, and wore, at the Sunday dinner yesterday, her new grey plaiddress made by Alma, which fits well and looks quite stylish. I sat withher at the long table which was filled with guests, employees andboarders--a public place for me, which I do not like over much, but whatcan I do? The two Commissioners are sobered, look sickly, and more orless repentant; the resident official declaring to me he would now quitdrinking entirely, and buy me a new silk dress if he is ever seen totake liquor again. 

I had nothing to say to him, except to look disgusted, and he took thatas a rebuke. The other Commissioner was exceedingly polite to me when hecame into the living room to bid all good-bye, and said if, at any time, there was anything in the way of business transactions he could do forme, to let him know; he would be delighted--as if I would ever ask anyfavor of him!

The weather is blustery, like March in Wisconsin. Mollie asked me to goupstairs with her, look at rooms, and select one for myself, which Idid, deciding to take a small unfurnished one (except for a spring cot, mirror, and granite wash bowl and pitcher), as this will be easilywarmed by my big lamp, and it has a west window, through which I willget the afternoon sun. 

I cleaned the floor, and tacked up a white tablecloth which I had in mytrunk, for a curtain; spread my one deer skin rug upon the floor, madeup the cot bed with my blankets, opened my trunk, hung up a fewgarments, and was settled. This is the first spring bed I have sleptupon since Mr. H. Took the velvet couch away from the Mission. I foundthe boarded walls very damp, as was also the floor after cleaning, butmy large lamp, kept burning for two hours, dried them sufficiently, andI am quite well satisfied. 

Ageetuk has been papering the sewing-room with fresh wall paper, and itlooks better, but it has made a good deal of confusion all round, andthere are numbers of people, both native and white, coming and going allday long. 

February twenty-third: Yesterday was Washington's Birthday, but quiethere. Today Mollie and I took Jennie and Charlie out on a sled with Mukyto push behind at the handle-bar through the soft, deep snow. Mollie satupon the sled, and rode down hill twice with the children, Muky hoppingon behind; but I took a few kodak views of them, which I hope will begood. I also received some mail from the outside which was written lastNovember. 

Some of the men in the hotel have tried to play what they call "a joke"on me. The steward of the house has a key which unfastens the lock on mydoor, as well as others; so they went into my room and tied a string tothe foot of my bed, first boring a hole through the boards into thehall, and running the string through it. This string, I suppose, theyintended to pull in the night and frighten me; but Mollie and I happenedto go up there for something and found it. 

I was indignant, but everybody of whom Mollie inquired denied knowinganything of it, and I said very little. Going to my trunk afterwards, Ifound that the lock had been picked and broken, --a pretty severe "joke, "and one I do not relish, as now I have no place in which to keepanything from these men. If they enter my room whenever they choose inthe daytime, what is to prevent them when I am asleep? I took Mollieupstairs and showed her the broken lock, and she stooped to brush somewhite hairs from her dark wool skirt. 

"Where they come from?" she asked suddenly. Then, picking at thereindeer skin upon the floor under her feet, she said, nodding her headdecidedly, "I know. He--Sim--come to me in sewing-room, --hair all samethis on two knees of blank pants. I say, 'Where you get white reindeerhair on you, Sim?' He say, 'I don't know. ' Sim make hole in wall, andstring on bed for you, Mrs. Sullivan. He make lock peeluk, too, " andMollie's face wore a serious and worried expression. 

"O, well, Mollie, " said I, "don't worry. I shall say nothing to any ofthe men as they are mad at me now. "

Mollie nodded significantly and said: "Your fox skins peeluk, Mrs. Sullivan. Sim knows where--he never tell--sell for whiskey, maybe, " andMollie turned to go, as though he were a hopeless case, and beyond hergovernment. 

"Yes, Mollie, I think so; but you can not help what these bad men do. Iknow that, and do not blame you. "

"My husband very sorry 'bout fox skins. He cannot find--he no blame, "and she seemed to fear that I would attach some blame to the captain. 

"No, indeed, Mollie, I don't think your husband can help what they do. Ishould not have left my fox skins hanging in that room, and will becareful in future, but if they come into my room they may steal otherthings, and I do not like it. "

"I know, I know, --Sim no good--Joe no good--Bub no good, " and she wentaway in a very depressed state of mind to Jennie and Apuk's baby. 

Of course Mollie told all to the captain, who immediately accused themen in the bar-room, and they all swore vengeance upon me from that on, so I suppose they will do all they can to torment me. 

We are having a sensation in Chinik. The "bloomin' Commissioner" isabout to be deposed from office, for unfitness, neglect of duty, anddissipation; and a petition is being handed around the camp by theMarshal, praying the Nome authorities that he be retained. The honeststorekeeper refused to sign it, as have many of the Swedes. TheCommissioner swears by all that is good and great to quit drinking, andbe decent. Time will tell--but I have no faith in him. 

Mollie goes often these days to look for foxes and to shoot ptarmigan, taking with her a dog-team, and a native boy or two with their guns. When it is bright and sunny, I take the two little children out in thefur robes on the sled, with a native to push the latter, and I enjoy theouting fully as well as they. Jennie is put to bed again on her return, and the weight--a sand bag--attached to her foot, according to thedoctor's orders. 

The weather is very springlike, and we have wind "emeliktuk, " as littleCharlie says when he has a plenty of anything. Snow storms aresandwiched nicely in between, but many "mushers" are on the trails. Mollie gets now and then a fox, either white or crossed, and one day shebrought in a black one. 

Liquor is doing its fiendish work in camp each hour of the twenty-four. Some are going rapidly down the broad road to destruction; a few turntheir backs upon it, and seek the straighter way. Some half dozen of themen headed by Sim and Bub are drinking heavily most of the time, gambling between spells for the money with which to buy the poison. 

Very late one night a party of drunken men pounded with their fists uponmy door. 

"She's in--hic--there, boys, " said one of the men in a halting waycustomary with tipplers. 

"Bust in the door!" blurted another. 

"Drive her out'n here, Bub, ye fool!" yawned another, almost too sleepyfor utterance. 

In the meantime I lay perfectly still. Not a sound escaped me, foralthough my heart beat like a sledge hammer, and I was trembling allover, I knew it was best not to speak. After a little more parleyingthey all went off to finish their "spree" elsewhere. Next day I reportedthe affair to the captain, who, with his wife, in their ground floorapartments in the farther end of the building, had not heard the noiseof the night before. Of course the men were now furious, denyingeverything, calling me a "liar, " ad infinitum. 

A fine-looking young man, a dentist and doctor, claiming to come from aneastern city, while sitting at the table last evening, after much insanegibberish, fell back intoxicated upon the floor, and lay insensible forsome time. He was finally, when the others had finished eating, draggedoff to bed in a most inglorious condition, to suffer later for hisdissipation. O, how my heart ached for his dear old mother so far away!If she had seen him as I saw him, I think she would have died. It isbetter for her to believe him dead than to know the truth. 

CHAPTER XXIV. 

AN UNPLEASANT ADVENTURE. 

When Sunday comes, Jennie and I always wear our best clothes, neithersewing, studying, nor doing any work, but we read Bible stories, learnverses, look at pictures, and keep the big music box going a good shareof the time. Sometimes if it is bright and warm, I take the two childrenout for a ride, and Jennie likes to call upon her grandmother. 

The long front porch of the hotel has been opened again, the sideshaving been taken off, and the ice and snow cut away from the steps, sothe little ones often play upon the porch in the sun for an hour or two. There are now a number of little puppies to be fed and brought up, someof them of pure Eskimo breed, and Charlie likes to frolic with them bythe hour. They are very cunning, especially when Mollie puts a littleharness which she has made upon each one, making them pull the sticks ofwood she fastens behind in order to teach them to haul a load. Mollie isfrequently gone for two days hunting, and if she does not find what shelooks for the first day she sleeps upon her sled a few hours rolled inher furs, then rises and "mushes" on again. 

Far and near she is known and respected, and the name of "Mollie" inthis country is the synonym of all that is brave, true and womanly;hunting and trapping being for an Eskimo woman some of the mostlegitimate of pursuits. The name of Angahsheock, which means a leader ofwomen in her native tongue, was given her by her parents, as those whoknow her acknowledge. 

In severe contrast to the character of Mollie is Polly, who hasdeveloped an insane jealousy of me on the children's account, and whonever loses an opportunity to annoy and insult me, much to my surprise. One day she will hide my books, pour soup over my dress in the kitchen, slam the door in my face, and make jeering remarks in Eskimo, causingthe native boys to giggle; and worst of all, telling Charlie in herlanguage that I will kill and eat him, thus making him scream when Iattempt to wash or dress him. 

However, there is another and principal reason for her ill treatment ofme, which is far reaching, for Polly and Sim are cronies, and the girldoes what he tells her to do, and that is to torment me as much aspossible. 

For these reasons and others I decided some time ago to carry my mealsinto the living room on a tray when I give the children theirs;especially when Mollie is away, and the rough element does not feel therestraint of her presence at table. There are no other white women inthe house, unless, perhaps, one comes in from the trail with the men fora day, and these are, as a rule, not the kind of women to inspire therespect of any one. So I spread Charlie's and my food upon a smalltable, and Jennie's on her own tray, for after each little outing she isstrapped and weighted down in bed as before, and we would be very happyif it were not for Polly, Sim, and a few other "toughs" in the hotel andvicinity. 

Each day I manage, when Jennie is busy with Apuk's baby, O Duk Dok, thedeaf girl, grandmother, and her other numerous Eskimo friends, to slipaway and run out for a little fresh air, and into the Mission for a fewminutes. Then I sit down at the organ for a while, or hear of thosecoming and going on the trails, perhaps climbing the hill behind theMission for more exercise before going back to Jennie. 

The first week in April has been pleasant, and sunny for the most of thetime, but last night the eighth of the month, the thermometer, with ahigh wind, fell to thirty degrees below zero, and froze ice two inchesthick in my room upstairs. 

Mr. L. And B. Have returned from their Koyuk trip, having staked onecreek upon which they found colors, and which they were informed bynatives was a gold bearing creek. Their supply of grub would not allowthem to remain longer. They have staked a claim for me, with theothers. Number Fourteen, above Discovery, is mine, but they do not giveout the name of the creek until they have been up there and stakedanother stream near the first one. When I get my papers recorded I shallfeel quite proud of this, my best claim, perhaps, so far; and I amthankful and quite happy, except for the disagreeable features of hotellife, which I am always hoping will be soon changed. So long, however, as the deadly liquor is sold in almost every store and cabin, the causeof disturbances will remain, and men's active brains, continually firedwith poison as they are, will concoct schemes diabolical enough to shamea Mephistopheles. 

Today, after due deliberation regarding the matter, I asked B. , on theaside, if he would lend me a revolver. He gave me a quick and searchinglook. 

"Do you want it loaded?" he asked. 

"Yes, please, and I will call after supper for it, " said I, in a lowtone, while going out the door. 

Early this morning, putting on my furs and carrying a small shoe boxunder my arm, I ran over to the Mission. In the hall I was met by B. , towhom I handed the box. He took it quietly and went directly to his room, reappearing in a moment and handing it back to me, saying significantlyas he did so: "Three doses of that are better than one, if any areneeded, " which remark I understood without further explanation. 

I have brought the box to my room and have placed it under the head ofmy cot upon the floor, where, in case of emergency, it may be ofservice. It is not a pretty plaything, and will not be used as such byme, but I shall feel safer to know it is near at hand. 

Little did I know when I selected my room the day Mollie brought meupstairs that on the other side of the board partition slept the man whohad killed another in the early winter; and, though the murderer has sofar never molested me in any way, still he sometimes gets what they call"crazy drunk, " and is as liable to kill some other as he was to kill thefirst; then, too, thin board walls have ears, and I have heard themutterings and threats of these wretches for a number of weeks. 

I have been exceedingly sorry for a month past to see the preparationsmy friends, the Swedish women in the Mission, are making to go to Nome, and now they expect to start tomorrow. They must be in town to puteverything in readiness for the opening of the "Star" when the firststeamers arrive from the outside. The weather is bright and pretty coldtoday, making the trails good, but in a thaw they are bad and are nowliable to break up at any time. Quite a party will go to Nome, Mr. L. , M. And others, and they will travel with dogs. I dread to see my Swedishfriends, the only white women in this camp with whom I can be friendly, leave Chinik, for I shall then be more alone than ever. If thistiresome ice in the bay would only move out so the boats could get in, we should have others, but there is no telling when that will be. Manyare now betting on the breaking up of the ice, and all hope it will bevery soon. 

May second: My Swedish friends left very early today for Nome, and onlyMiss L. From the Home is there, sweeping out the place; but B. And thevisiting preacher will go with her to the Home today, closing thehospitable doors of the Mission for a time. This evening they held ameeting for the natives in camp, and I attended, but it seemed like afuneral without the friends now "mushing" on the Nome trail. 

A woman has come to live at Mellie's, and is a study in beaver coat, dyed brown hair (which should be grey, according to her age), and with, it is reported, a bank account of one hundred and fifty thousanddollars, after having lived in Alaska nearly five years. She is called agood "stampeder, " has a pleasant, smiling face, but is usuallydesignated "notorious. "

May tenth: Mollie went out early with Muky, her dog-team and guns, toescort Ageetuk, Alice and Punni Churah, with their mother, who isMollie's aunt, to their new hunting camp in the mountains. At seven inthe evening Mollie returned with wet feet. Tomorrow she will take a net, and some other things they have forgotten. They have gone to take theirannual spring vacation and hunt grey squirrels for a month, living in ahut in the meantime. The weather is warm and springlike. 

May thirteenth: The captain has been obliged to go to Nome on business, weak and ill though he is, and has been for months. It did not seem tome that he could live through the winter, and he is far too weak to takethis long trip over the trail, but he says he is obliged to go, and willreturn at the earliest possible moment. He has taken Fred, the Russianboy, and a team of nine dogs, leaving after supper, and intending totravel night and day, as we now have no darkness. 

The dissipated men around camp, idle and drunken most of the time, withnothing to occupy their attention after the long, tedious winter, stillspend their hours in gossiping, swearing, drinking, and gambling, knowing no day and no night, but making both hideous to those aroundthem. As a destroyer of man's self-respect, independence, and dignity, there is nothing to compare with the accursed liquor. There are numbersof instances in camp proving the truth of this statement. There is theEnglish clergyman's tall and handsome son, well educated, musical and ofagreeable manners--fitted to grace the best society, but--liquor is toblame for his present condition, which is about as low as man can sink. 

It is ten in the evening and I am in my little room upstairs, the onlywhite woman in the camp except Mellie and two like her. Down stairs inthe bar-room the men are singing, first coon songs and then churchhymns, with all the drunken energy they can muster. The crash of brokenglass, angry oaths, and the slamming of doors reaches my ears sofrequently as to cause little surprise, the French cooks in the kitchenadding their share to the disturbance. In a distant part of the hotellies the little sick girl, her cot rolled each night close to thebedside of her mother, who tries to soothe her in her pain, Mollie andthe wicked little Eskimo servant being the only women besides myself inthe house. The noise and confusion increases down stairs, and I shallsleep little tonight. I will look at my revolver and see that itscontents have not been removed. 

May fifteenth: Here I am alone with the little children, a bad nativegirl, and a gang of the worst men in Alaska, Mollie having gone outhunting. At midnight Sim, Mellie and several others left for a dance atWhite Mountain, but it was two o'clock in the morning before the housewas quiet. While I lay perfectly still, and trying to sleep, a man'sstealthy footstep passed my door. He walked in his stocking feet--barefloors and walls echo the slightest sound, and my ears are keen. Was ita friend or foe? What was his object? My heart beat with a heavy thud, but I remembered the loaded revolver under my bed, and thanked God forit. 

After a long time I slept a fitful, uneasy sleep for an hour, anddressed myself as usual at half-past six o'clock, feeling badly for wantof needed sleep. Afterwards I washed, dressed and fed the children, amusing and entertaining them in my accustomed way. Ageetuk's housebeing closed, little Charlie is kept here all the time, Polly lookingafter him nights. A saloon keeper named Fitts, villainous in reality aswell as in looks, is hanging around continually, wearing the blackest oflooks at every one, having been in trouble nearly all winter, andclosing out his saloon a few weeks ago. A big Dutchman, burly as ablacksmith and well soaked in whiskey, lounges about in blue denim andskull cap, winking his bleared eyes at Polly and swearing soundly at hisnative wife when she steps inside the doors to look after him. 

All went well for a while today after Mollie's leaving, Jennie coaxingto be carried to her grandmother's for a visit, to which I consented, until Charlie and I sat down to supper, which I had spread, as is myhabit, in the living room. During the day I had turned matters well overin mind, and decided, with Mollie's advice, to sleep in her bedalongside of Jennie's cot, and to have grandmother stay with us, lockingthe doors of the rooms, as they should be. To my consternation, when Ichanced to look for the keys in the doors, there were none, showingplainly that they had been removed. 

This looked like a trap. There was nothing to do, much as I dislikedit, but to ask for the keys, as I would never spend the night in thehouse without them. Soon afterward the steward entered, and I verycalmly and politely asked for the door keys of the two rooms, sayingthat I would spend the night with Jennie. With cool insolence he repliedthat he would lock them himself. 

Again the trap. I made no reply. I saw that he had been drinking--thathe was not himself, and that it was useless to argue with him. 

After waiting for an answer, and getting none, the man went outcarelessly, leaving the door ajar behind him. At that moment the supperbell rang and he, with others, sat down to the table. 

"She wants the keys to the doors, she says, " drawled the man I hadspoken with regarding them. 

"What did ye tell her?" demanded one of the ruffians. 

"I told her I would lock the doors myself, " said the fellow. 

"What does she want of keys? Who is she afraid of? It must be you, Bub;'tain't me, " said one. 

"You're a liar!" shouted Bub. "It's the genial dispenser of booze herebeside me she's afraid of. "

"I'll see to her after supper, you bet!" shouted an official voice, atwhich I shuddered. A general hubbub now ensued; among others I coulddistinguish the word "black-snake whip, " but I had heard enough. 

I was planning as I listened. Leaning forward I kissed the little childbeside me, and said softly, "Eat all your supper, dear, and then go toPolly. 'Sully' is going to grandma's. "

Throwing a light wrap over my head, I ran out of the front door, andaround the west end of the house, careful not to pass the dining-roomwindows, where the men would see me, and hastened to grandmother'scabin, knowing that I should there find Jennie. Grandmother lived aloneexcept for O Duk Dok, the deaf girl, and they must give me shelter forthe night. 

Here I found Jennie quite happy, with her deaf friend sitting on theedge of the bed beside her, while her grandmother was busy with herwork. 

In a few words I explained to the old woman the situation, and I wasmade welcome, Jennie being pleased to remain in the cabin all night. Iknew Polly would put Charlie to bed when the time came, and the boy wassafe enough where he was. I did not believe the gang would disturb me ingrandmothers' cabin, but I feared they would loot my room in my absence. 

Here Jennie could assist me. I now asked her to have O Duk Dok go outfor the native named Koki, and bring him to me, which she did, the deafgirl understanding by the motion of the child's lips what was beingsaid. 

O Duk Dok then drew on her parkie, and went out. 

"Koki, " said I, when the native had entered the room a few minuteslater, and closed the door behind him, "will you go to my room--Numberthree--in the hotel, and get some things for me?"

"Yes, " was the laconic reply of the man. 

"Here is the key of the door. Between the mattresses of the bed you willfind two books, and in the shoe box on the floor there is a revolver. Bring them to me under your parkie so no one shall see what you have. Take this little key, lock my trunk and be sure you fasten the doorbehind you. You won't forget?"

"All right. I no forget, " and Koki grinned, and went out. 

He did not forget. In about twenty minutes he returned, bringing thekeys, revolver, and diaries which I had kept hidden for fear the lawlessfellows might find and destroy them. 

I now felt much relieved. I did not think the gang would come to thecabin, but in case they did there was the revolver, and grandmother'stwo doors had locks, which if not the very strongest, were better thannone, and I fastened them immediately after Koki's departure. 

May eighteenth: The night I slept in grandmother's cabin with Jenniepassed quietly for us. I slept in my clothes and muckluks, an old quiltand fur parkie on some boards being my bed, though grandmother finallygave me a double blanket for covering when I asked for it. 

It was long past midnight before we slept. The child was restless, andurged her grandmother to tell her Eskimo stories. O Duk Dok sleptheavily, unconscious of all around her. My own senses were on the alert. I listened intently to catch every sound, but we were too far away fromthe hotel to hear the carousal that I well knew was there in progress. The mushers from the dance were hourly expected home, and would then addtheir part to the midnight orgies. The low droning of the old Eskimowoman, telling her tales of the Innuits, of the Polar bear, the seal andthe walrus, of the birds, their habits and nestlings; this was the onlysound I heard. 

After a time the others slept and I went to the window and looked out. At my right, only a stone's throw away, was the Mission, its windows anddoors all fastened, and its occupants gone. I felt a heart-sinkingsensation as I thought of the friends who were there lately. Across theway was the old schoolhouse, in which were the musician, his partner andthe deaf man, who had been bitten by the mad dog. They were withincalling distance, and for that I felt thankful. I had dreaded the nightin the cabin for fear that I should suffer for fresh air, but seeing abroken pane of glass into which some cloth had been stuffed, I removedthe latter, and allowed the pure air to enter. Of course the place wasscented with seal oil, but grandmother's cabin was comparatively tidyand clean. 

Next morning, when we knew that breakfast was over, we went in a body tothe hotel, grandmother carrying Jennie on her back, according to Eskimocustom. Some of the men were still sleeping off their dissipation of thenight before. Nothing was said about our remaining away, and the Eskimowomen spent the day with us. Others also came, called quietly in to seeJennie, and remained to the meals I was glad to give them for theircompany. 

When six o'clock arrived, and still we saw nothing of Mollie, I feltanxious. If she did not return it meant another night in the native hutfor us. Eight, nine, ten o'clock--thank God! She had come at last. Icould have hugged her for joy. She had nearly one hundred ptarmigan, enough to last till the captain came home, and would not leave us againalone. 

Later: The captain returned from Nome, having made the trip ofeighty-five miles and back by dog-team in four days and nights, a veryquick trip indeed. The "toughs" have subsided, and are on their goodbehavior for the present, at least, fearing what the captain will sayand do when their last doings are reported, but I understand that mostof them are mortally offended at my remaining at grandmother's, as noone takes offense so easily as a rogue when his honesty is doubted. 

CHAPTER XXV. 

STONES AND DYNAMITE. 

The last week of May has finally come, and with it real spring weather. The children play out in the sand heap on the south side of the housefor hours together, enjoying the warm sunshine and pleasant air, thelittle girl clothed from head to foot in furs. Never has a springtimebeen so welcome to me, perhaps because in striking contrast to the long, cold winter through which we have just passed. From the hillside behindthe Mission, the snow is slowly disappearing, first from the mostexposed spots and rocks, the gullies keeping their drifts and icelonger. Mosses are everywhere peeping cheerfully up at me in all theirtints of gorgeous green, some that I found recently being tipped withthe daintiest of little red cups. This, with other treasures, I broughtin my basket to Jennie when I returned from my daily walk upon the hill, and together we studied them closely under the magnifying glass. 

To examine the treasures brought in by Mollie, however, we needed noglass. They are sand-pipers, ptarmigan, squirrels, and occasionally awild goose, shot, perhaps, in the act of flying over the hunter's head, as these birds are now often seen and heard going north. In the eveningI see from my window the neighboring Eskimo children playing with theirsleds, and sometimes they light a bonfire, shouting and chattering intheir own unique way. All "mushers" now travel at night when the trailis frozen, as it is too soft in the daytime, and the glare of the sunoften causes snow-blindness. Then, too, there is water on the ice inplaces, which we are glad to see, and pools of the same are standingaround the Mission and schoolhouse. I can no longer go out in mymuckluks, but must wear my long rubber boots and short skirts. 

Today I went out for an hour, walking to Chinik Creek over the tundra, from which the snow has almost disappeared, and returned by the hill-toppath. The tundra was beautiful with mosses, birds were singing, and therushing and roaring of the creek waters fairly made my head swim, theywere such unusual sounds. The water was cutting a channel in the sandswhere it empties into the bay. Here it was flowing over the ice, helpingto loosen the edge and allow it to drift out to sea. 

There is little change in the manners and dispositions of the rough menin camp. There are the same things with which to contend day after day, the same annoyances and trials to endure, with new ones in additionquite frequently. 

June has come at last, and all the world should be happy, but, alas, there is always some worm in the bud to do the blasting. This morningabout three o'clock I was wakened by the sound of drunken voices outsidemy window, followed by stones hurled against the side of the house. Quickly rising, I cautiously peeped out from behind the curtain, but wasnot surprised at what I saw. There, about a hundred feet away, were fourmen, all well known to me as members of the gang, and all in the mostadvanced stages of intoxication. On the step of a neighboring cabin satthe murderer, Ford, hugging in a maudlin way a big black bottle. 

On the ground, in the dirt, there rolled two young men, the Englishmanunderneath, and Big Bub over him. Sim, the leader, had aimed four stonesat my window, but missed it, and felt the need of more stimulant, so hetook the bottle from Ford, carried it to the lumber pile, a few feetaway, sat down, put it to his lips and drank heavily. Again and again hetipped up the bottle while he drank, but finally threw it away empty. Then, with much exertion, he stooped to pick up a stone. 

He was aiming at my window. I dodged into a corner, but the boxwashstand stood partly in my way. Would he hit his mark? I did notbelieve it. He was too drunk. Crack! came the stone against the house. 

I waited. Another followed. In the meantime the other men had paid noattention to him, as Ford was watching the two tumblers, the lumberpile being between them and Sim; and the three started for the frontdoor around the south side of the house. Sim followed them. I now hopedhe would forget his stone throwing. When they were all out of sight Ibreathed more freely. Surely now the trouble was over, I thought, and Ithrew off my fur coat which I had hastily pulled on over my wrapper, crept into bed and covered my head with the blankets. 

I now thought quickly. Even if Sim should forget to throw more stones, would he not soon come upstairs and perhaps give me more trouble? Wouldit not be better to dress myself and be prepared for any emergency? Iwas hurriedly deliberating upon the matter--my head still covered withthe blankets--when there was a loud crash and shivered glass covered thefloor and the bed clothes. Instantly throwing the latter back, I lookedaround me. I could see no stone, and I had heard none fall upon thefloor, but it must be there somewhere. 

I now stepped carefully out of bed, in order to avoid the glass, my feetbeing already in knit, wool slippers, with thick, warm soles--and againlooked out. 

There was no one to be seen. Sim had done his dastardly work, and goneindoors. Would this end it? My teeth shattered, and I felt cold. I mustkeep my nerve, however, and I did so, dressing myself carefully even tomy stout shoes which I laced up in front and tied. Then I drew on myfur coat and sat down to wait. 

Below the four men were poking around in the kitchen, trying to findsomething to eat or drink. It was not long before I heard them comingupstairs, and all tumbled into the next room, which was occupied byFord. 

If they came to molest me further there was yet one way of escape whichI would try before using my revolver. The weapon I did not want to useunless driven to it. There was the staging outside my window which hadnever been removed since the house was built, the year before. I couldvery easily step out upon it, and walk to the end of the house, but thenI must either jump or remain, for there was no ladder. This staging was, perhaps, twenty feet from the ground, and the latter frozen. To slidedown a post would tear my hands fearfully. 

I had not long to wait. To go peaceably to bed seemed to be the lastthing these men thought of, and one picked up a gun, which, for huntingpurposes, every man in the house kept close at hand. 

"I zay, now, Bub, put up zat gun. Zis ain't no place for shootin', "drawled a thick, sleepy voice which I recognized instantly. 

"Shut yer gab! Who's hurtin' you?" answered Bub, the biggest of thefour, and one of the ugliest when intoxicated. 

"Mrs. Sullivan's in the next room. You wouldn't shoot her, would you?"asked Sim sneeringly in a loud tone, for he could stand up under greatquantities of liquor. 

"Sh! Keep still a minute, you fool!" in a harsh whisper from Bub. 

I was now thankful that I was dressed. I waited no longer. Opening thedoor I ran down stairs to Mollie and the captain, knocking loudly upontheir door. 

"Hang those brutes!" exclaimed the captain angrily, when I had finishedtelling him what had happened. "What is the matter with them, any way?"

"Whiskey, " said I. "They are all as drunk as pirates. "

"Show me your room and window, " demanded the captain, who by this timehad gotten into some of his clothing, and stepped into the living roomwhere I was. 

I then led the way upstairs, and threw open my door. What a sight!Broken glass covered the floor and bed, the cool morning air pouring inthrough the broken pane of which there was little left in the sash. 

That was enough for the captain. He made straight for the next room, where all was now perfectly still, only Ford remaining in it, the othershaving had sense enough to sneak off to their own places, after hearingme run down stairs to report. 

Seizing my blankets I closed and locked the door and made my way downstairs to Mollie. Above we could hear the captain's voice in angryaltercation with the men, they denying everything, of course, even thestone throwing, with the window as evidence against them. It washalf-past four and I had slept little. There was no fire in the house, and I was cold; so, throwing down a few skins in a corner of thesewing-room, with my blankets upon them, I covered myself to get warm. 

At last the house was once more quiet, and I slept for an hour, only tomeet black and angry looks from the men all day, accompanied by threatsand curses, though I said nothing to them. I picked up the stone from myreindeer rug, where it had fallen after shattering the window pane, andit lay only two feet from my head. It was about the size of an egg. 

Of course it is impossible for me to leave Chinik, as the winter trailsare broken up, the ice has not left the bay, and no steamers can enter;so we are practically prisoners. O, how I long to get away from thisterrible place! Never since I came to Chinik have I given these men onecross word, and yet they hate me with a bitter, jealous hatred, such asI have never before seen. Some weeks ago I pinned a slip of paper intomy Bible, upon which I have written the address of my parents, in caseanything should happen to me. O, to be once more safe at home with them!God grant that I may be before many months shall have passed. 

A splendid warm, bright day, June thirteenth, the most of which thechildren and I have spent upon the sandy beach in front of the hotel. Little Jennie lies and plays on the warm, dry sand, though, of course, she does not stand on her feet nor walk. Other small Eskimos come toplay with them, for Charlie is always on hand for a play spell on thesand, and I doze and read under my umbrella in the meantime, with an eyealways upon them. They make sand pies, native igloos, and many imaginarythings and places, but more than any other thing is my mind upon thecoming of the steamers, when I hope to get away. 

Mollie came in last night from a seal hunt upon the ice, and she, withthe three native boys, secured a white seal, and eight others, but didnot bring all with them. There is a great deal of water on the ice atthis time, and none but natives like to travel upon it. Ducks and geeseare flying northward in flocks above our heads, and we feast daily uponthem. They are very large and tasty, and the cook knows well how toserve them. 

We now see a line of blue water out beyond the ice, and even distinguishwhite breakers in the distance. Today I took a field glass, and climbingthe hill behind the Mission to look as far out as possible, strained myeyes to see a steamer. As I stood upon the point to get a better view, the whole world around seemed waking from a long, long sleep. 

At my left was Chinik Creek, pouring its rushing waters out over the bayice with a cheerful, rapid roaring. Farther away south stretched theDarby Cape into blue water which looked like indigo, surmounted by longrolling breakers with combs of white, all being fully fourteen milesaway. To the northwest of the sand-spit upon which Chinik is built, andwhich cuts Golovin Bay almost in two, the Fish River is also emptyingitself, as is Keechawik Creek and other smaller streams. Over all thewelcome sunshine is flooded, warming the buds and roots on the hillside, and making all beautiful. 

June seventeenth: This is Bunker Hill Day in New England, and the menhave been celebrating on their own account, setting off a fifty poundsbox of dynamite in the neighborhood to frighten the women, I suppose. The shock was terrific, breaking windows, lamp shades, and jarringbottles and other articles off the shelves. Jennie was dreadfullyfrightened, and screamed for a few minutes, while the living room soonfilled with men inquiring the cause of the explosion. By and by a mancame in saying that another box of giant powder would be set off, butwith that the Marshal left the room with a determined face, and we heardno more dynamiting. The men, as usual, were intoxicated. 

I have just had a pleasant little outing at the Home, going with Mollie, who invited me to go with her. She was going out seal hunting on theice, would leave me at the Home for a short visit, and pick me up on herreturn. Ageetuk and grandmother would take good care of Jennie for soshort a time, and I needed the change, so I ran up to my room, threwsome things hastily into a small bag to take with me, locked my trunk, (I had long ago put a package consisting of papers and diaries into thesafe in the kind storekeeper's care), dressed myself in my shortestskirts and longest rubber boots, and we started. The weather was toowarm for furs in sunshine, or while running behind a sled, so I wore athick jacket, black straw hat with thick veil, and kid gloves. 

We left the hotel about half-past seven o'clock in the evening, but withthe sun still high and warm. Mollie had her small sled and three dogs, with Muky and Punni Churah and their guns. The other sled was a largeone, and to it were hitched seven good dogs, accompanied by Ituk andKoki. Upon the sleds were furs, guns, bags and fishing tackle. Alongshore there was considerable water on the ice, in a few spots the latterhad disappeared, and we could see the sandy beach, but farther east theice was firmer, and Mollie, who made for the best looking places, ledthe way, I running closely in her footsteps. 

Behind us came the men and teams, the calls of the Eskimos to their dogssounding musically on the quiet evening air. Mollie and I were nowleaping over water-filled cracks or lanes in the ice, she having assuredme that after getting away from the shore it would be better traveling, and we could ride on the sleds when we were tired, but I feltconsiderable pride in keeping up with her, and soon grew very warm fromthe stiff exercise, unaccustomed as I was, while she was well used toit. 

After we had left the shore some distance behind us we halted for thesleds to come up, Mollie seating herself upon the small one, I waitingfor the other a little later. There I ran at the handle-bars for a time, but at last I threw myself upon the sled among the furs, and pulled aparkie over me. We were now in the water a foot deep most of the time, the dogs picking their way along over the narrowest water lanes, Itukand Koki shouting to them to gee and haw, and with Eskimo calls andwhip-snapping, urging them on continually. 

Soon we left the smaller sled behind; Mollie, Muky and Punni making theair ring with laughter and Eskimo songs. As we started out from home thesun shone brightly upon us, but as we left the land at our backs, andmade our way farther out upon the bay, the sun dropped lower and lower, the sky became a mass of crimson and yellow, and the whole world seemedmodestly blushing. 

Along the east shore the rolling hills lay almost bare of snow, thebrown tundra appearing softly and most artistically colored. To thenorth the mountains were still tipped with snow, as was also thepromontory--Cape Darby, at the extreme southeast point. This was spottedand streaked with white, its rocky cliff black in shadow by contrast. Our eyes eagerly scanned the horizon for steamers, and a schooner hadbeen reported off Darby loaded with fresh fruits and vegetables, but wecould not see it. 

By and by we were past most of the water lanes, and the ice was better. At half-past nine o'clock in the evening the sky was exceedingly grand, and a song of gratitude welled up in my heart, for this was anotherworld from the one we had just left, and I no longer wondered atMollie's love of hunting in the fresh air, under the beautiful skies, and with her freedom to travel wherever she liked. 

With her I felt perfectly safe. No harm could come to me when Mollie ledthe way, and my confidence in the native men was equally strong; forwere they not as familiar with ice and water as with land? I soon sawthat we were headed toward the island, though I did not know why, and bythis time Mollie was far ahead, also that we were being followed by adog-team from Chinik, which puzzled me, for I had not heard that otherswere going out hunting for seal, or starting for the Home, which was mydestination. 

When we reached the north end of the small island Mollie ran up the pathlike a deer, I following, as did the natives, leaving the dogs to restupon the ice. From a hole in the rocks Koki now hauled his kyak orsmall skin boat, where he had left it from a former trip, and draggingit down upon the ice, he lashed it upon the small sled to be carriedstill farther. 

The dog-team, which I had seen following in the distance, had now comeup with us, and I heard one man say to the other: "There is Mrs. Sullivan, " but I did not recognize the voice. When they came nearer, wefound it to be two men from camp who were going out to the schooners tobuy fruit and vegetables, and they wanted to get a dog belonging to themwhich Mollie had borrowed and had hitched into her team. A change ofdogs was then made, and we started--Mollie and I on her big sled, theother two following. 

We now skirted the rocky cliffs, and found the ice hummocky betweengreat, deep cracks where the water was no longer white, but dark andforbidding. Sometimes Koki suddenly started the dogs to one side toavoid dark-looking holes in the ice, the dogs leaping over seams whichquickly lay beneath us as the fore and hinder parts of our sled bridgedthe crevasse of ugly water. 

Now the sled swayed from side to side as the dogs made sudden curves ordashes, then a big hummock of ice and snow had to be crossed, and oneend of the sled went up while the other went down. I was holding to theside rails with both hands, and knowing that the sled was a good, strongone, I had no fear of its breaking, but my feet were cold in my rubberboots, and I had drawn some furs over me. 

Mollie is not a great talker, she seldom explains anything, and one hasonly to wait and see the outcome of her movements, and this I did, whenshe suddenly with Ituk left the sleds and climbed the rocks of theisland again on the south side. Then I saw them gathering sticks andsmall driftwood, and knew that they would make a fire upon the ice atmidnight, while preparing to hunt for seals. 

Coming to a rough place, with high-piled ice between great, ugly seamsover which the sagacious dogs dragged the sleds always in a straightline, not slantwise, I climbed out, and Mollie and Ituk came with theirdriftwood, which they threw upon the sled; the two men making for theschooner forging ahead in the direction of Cape Darby. 

Ituk and Muky now made ready to go with me to the Home, a half mile awayto the east where they were also to get some bread, this important itemhaving been forgotten in the hurry of departure from Chinik. In themeantime Mollie, not to lose a moment of time, as is her method, hadgotten out her fishing tackle and was already fishing for tom-codthrough a hole in the ice. Bidding her Beoqua (good-bye), we started forthe Home, Ituk politely taking my little bag, and Muky leaping lightlyover the rocks toward the mainland. Along the shore of the island I wasfearful of cutting my boots on the jagged rocks and rubble thicklystrewn over the sands, and had to proceed cautiously for a time, butItuk, perceiving my difficulty, led to a smoother path, and we were soonon the mainland, and upon the soft tundra, when it was only a fewminutes walk to the Home. 

It was eleven o'clock in the evening, and we found the missionaries justreturned from a trip to the schooner, where they had secured freshpotatoes and onions. The smell and taste of an onion was never so goodto me before, and the potatoes were the first we had seen in six months. 

I had been in the Home in the early spring for a day, and now, as then, met with a warm welcome from the missionaries. They now had double thenumber of native children they had in Chinik, and their house is largeand commodious, though unfinished. 

I was assigned the velvet couch upon which I had spent a good manynights, and the two natives returned to Mollie after securing some breadfrom Miss E. For their lunches. 

Next day we visited, and I rested considerably, finding again how goodit was to be in a safe and quiet place with no fear of stone throwers orgiant powder. 

About half-past ten o'clock in the evening, just after the sun had set, we started on our return trip, Mollie having arrived with her dog-teamsand natives. The sunset sky was exceedingly beautiful, but beneath ourfeet we had only very bad ice and water. Near the island great ice cakeswere floating, interspersed with dark seams and lanes wider than we hadbefore seen. Sometimes I rode on one of the sleds or walked, ran orleaped over the water holes to keep up with the rest until too tired andheated, when I threw myself upon a sled again; but as we proceeded wefound firmer ice and less water. Mollie and I had both to ride upon onesled now, for Ituk had lashed the kyak upon the little one, and theywere one dog short, as an animal had run away while they were eatingsupper at the Home. Finally, pitying the dogs upon the large sled, whoseemed to have a heavy load (although only one seal, as they had metwith little success in hunting), I motioned to Ituk to wait for me, which he did. 

"Ituk, " I called, as I came nearer, "let me ride in the kyak, will you?"

"You ride in kyak?" asked the man in surprise. 

"Yes, let me get in, I will hold on tight, " and, as he made noobjection, I climbed upon the boat, crept into the hole made for thatpurpose and sat down. 

"All right, Ituk; I am ready, " I said. 

The man laughed, cracked his whip, and the dogs started. 

I had not before realized that I would be sitting so high up, and thatat each dip in a crack or depression of the ice, when the sled runnerran a little higher than the other, I should stand a grand chance ofbeing spilled into the water, but my feet were so cold in my rubberboots that I was thinking to get them under cover would be agreeable, and though Ituk probably well knew what the outcome of my ride would be, he very patiently agreed to allow me to try it. 

We had not gone far when our dogs made a sudden dash or turn, theright-hand runner slipped lengthwise into a seam, and over we went, sled, kyak, woman and all upon the ice in a sorry heap. The dogs haltedinstantly, and Ituk, who had been running on the left-hand side of them, came back at my call. 

"O, Ituk, come here and help me! I cannot get out of the kyak, " I criedlustily. "I will not get into it again, " and I rubbed my wrist uponwhich the skin had been slightly bruised, and he assisted me to my feet. 

The native laughed. 

"Kyak no good--riding--heap better run, " he said. 

"That's so, Ituk, but my feet are very cold. "

"Get warm quick--you running, " was his reply, and we started on again. 

When five or six miles from Chinik the water became more troublesome, and our progress was slow. We were wading through holes, leaping overseams, and treading through slush and water. It was colder than thenight before, a thin skin of ice was forming, but not firm enough tohold one up. I was cold and cuddled into the sled with Mollie, but thetwo natives running alongside were continually sitting upon the rail toget a short ride instead of walking, thus loading the sled too heavilyupon one side, and we were soon all tumbled into water a foot deep. 

As I went over I threw out my arm to save myself, and my sleeve wassoaked through in an instant. Koki and Muky thought it great fun, andlaughed and shouted in glee, but to me it was a little too serious. Myclothes were wet through on my right side, and I was now obliged to runwhether I wanted to do so or not, for we were fully a mile from home. Mygloves and handkerchief were soaked with water, and I threw them away, thrusting my hands into my jacket pockets and running to keep up withthe others. 

We were now wading and leaping across frequent lanes, and were more inthe water than upon the ice. The sharp eyes of the natives had discernedthe shore line well bordered by open water, and they were wondering howthey would get across. Finally we could get no farther, and were ahundred feet from the beach. 

"Dogs can swim, " said Mollie, sententiously, as was her habit. 

"How will you and I get on shore, Mollie?" I asked anxiously. 

"Ituk, big man, --he carry you, may be, " answered Mollie, roguishly, witha twinkle. 

"But, " I continued seriously, "how deep is the water, anyway, Koki?"seeing that he had been wading in to find out. 

"Him not much deep. We walk all right, --'bout up here, " and the nativeplaced his hand half way between his knee and thigh to show the depth, then walking a little farther down towards the hotel he seemed to find abetter place, and called for all to follow, which we did. 

The men waded across to the shore, stepping upon stones which now andthen, at this point, were embedded in the sand, Mollie boldly followingtheir example. All wore high-skin boots, coming far above their knees, and water-tight, but my rubber-boots had never been put to a test likethis, only coming a little above my knees, where the soft tops wereconfined by a drawstring, and this water was very cold, as I had goodreason to know. 

However, there was nothing to do but go on, first watching the others, and then plunging boldly in. I drew my boot-tops higher, fastened thestrings securely, picked up my short skirts and wound them closely aboutme, but not in a manner to impede my progress, and stepped in. 

By this time the dogs and men were upon the sands, and making for home, only a few rods away, but I took my time, walking slowly in order thatthe water should not slop over the tops of my boots, and we finallyreached the beach and the house safely. 

CHAPTER XXVI. 

GOOD-BYE TO GOLOVIN BAY. 

On the morning of the twenty-sixth of June I awoke to find that the icehad drifted out to sea in the night, eight days after Mollie and I hadtaken our twelve miles trip across the bay and return. Then came hardrain and wind, that, for several days, blew the ice back into the bay, first to one side, and then to the other, so that the steamers waitingto come in could not do so for fear of the drifting floes. By thethirtieth of June schooners were coming into the bay with passengers andfreight, and the coast steamers, "Elmore" and "Dora, " had begun to makeregular trips to and from Nome. 

With them came mails from the outside, with newspapers and tidings offriends in the States. Then our fingers trembled at opening our lettersuntil we found that all our dear ones were well, and we heartily thankedthe Lord. There were other white women in camp by this time, and manystrangers at the hotel, among others, officials, and those in authority. 

Since the stone-throwing episode the Marshal had been doing duty aswatchman, sleeping during the day and guarding the house nights, theheavy iron "bracelets" in his inner coat pocket weighing scarcely morethan the loaded revolver in his belt. 

Our little sick girl being obliged now to keep her bed continually, withno more playing in the sand and sunshine, although her cough had lefther, was still the same sweet, patient child she had been through allher illness, and my whole time was given to her. Before one of the sunnysouth windows of the living room we placed her cot each morning, andhere she received her numerous friends, both Eskimo and white, and theirnames were legion. They came from the east, west, north and south, allsorry to know of her illness, and bringing presents with them. 

Sometimes it was a little live bird or squirrel, a delicious salmontrout or wild fowl for her supper; sometimes it was candy, nuts, orfresh fruit from Nome, and with everything she was well pleased andjoyous. Friends soon came in from the outside, bringing city dollsdressed in ribbons and laces; there were tiny dishes, chairs, tables, --ahundred things dear to a little girl's heart, and all pleased herimmensely, but all were laid quickly aside for a basket of wild flowersor mosses, for a fish, bird, animal or baby, showing plainly her tastefor the things of nature in preference to art. Her love for herbirthplace, with its hills, streams and ocean is a sincere one, and, young as she is, and having seen the great city by the Golden Gate, with many of its wonders, she is happiest in Chinik. 

Here lives her dear, old grandmother, her cousins and aunts, not tomention the little calico-capped baby belonging to Apuk, for which shehas a whole heartful of love, and the sight of which is better to herthan medicine. 

During the month of July we eagerly watched the incoming steamers, andwelcomed all new comers who landed in Chinik. Many were simply passingthrough on their way up Fish River to the mines, and praise of the landof the "Ophir" gold was sung on all sides. A few remained for thesummer. Here men built boats, and rowed away to Keechawik and Neukluk, carrying supplies for hunting or prospecting. 

The captain's vegetable garden in the sand was growing rapidly, and waswatched with eager eyes by everyone. We ate lettuce and radishes, pickedfresh from the garden beds where they had been sown by the captain's ownhands, and we found Ageetuk and Mollie to be quite famous cooks. Nothingso delicious as their salads (for the French cooks had long ago gone, the hotel management being changed, and Mollie had a nice little kitchenof her own), and with fresh salmon trout, wild fowl, fresh meats andvegetables, we made up for many months of winter dieting. 

All this time I longed to get away. I was going each day to the hill-topto watch for the steamers which would bring the letters for which Iwaited. Affairs connected with my gold claims were, with much anxietyand trouble, arranged as well as possible, and when I boarded thesteamer, I would carry with me, at least, three deeds to as many claims, with a fair prospect of others; but I could not decide to remain anotherwinter. I was determined to go to St. Michael, up the Yukon to Dawson, and "outside, " and laid my plans accordingly. Letters from my father andbrother in Dawson had been received. 

[Illustration: CLAIM ON BONANZA CREEK. ]

How my heart ached when I thought of leaving the little sick girl andCharlie, the latter now grown wilful, but still so bright and pretty. Iwanted to take both with me, but, no, I could not. 

The little girl's work was not ended. Hers is a wonderful mission, andshe is surely about to fulfill it. Born as she was in a rough miningcamp at the foot of the barren hills, she was given the Eskimo name ofYahkuk, meaning a little hill, and she, like an oasis in a desert place, is left here to cheer, love, and help others. 

Many times I have seen evidence of the sweet and gentle influences goingout from the life of little Yahkuk as she lies upon her cot of pain. Atall, brown miner enters the living room, goes to the little bed by thewindow, speaks softly, and, bending over the tiny girl, kisses her. Thenher big, black eyes glance brightly into blue ones looking down fromabove, full red lips part in a cordial smile, while the one solitarydimple in the smooth, round cheek pricks its way still deeper, and smallarms go up around his neck. When the man turns, his face wears a softand tender expression as though he were looking at some beautiful sightfar away, and, perhaps, he is. God grant that the sweet memory of thatlittle child's kiss may be so lasting that all their lives, he andothers, may be purer and better men. 

When August came I sailed away. The "Dora" had entered the bay in themorning and found my trunk packed and waiting; it was then only the workof a little time to make ready to leave. To my good missionary friends Ihad already said good-bye, and the captain and Mollie were kindlyregretful. With tears in my eyes, but with real pain in my heart I badeJennie good-bye, and stepped into the little boat which was to carry meto the "Dora. "

Farewell, then, to Chinik, the home of the north wind and blizzard. Farewell to the ice fields of Golovin, so tardy in leaving in summer, and to Keechawik and Chinik, whose clear rushing waters so cheered us inspring time. Farewell to the moss-covered hills and paths thicklybordered with blossoms. Farewell to my white-faced friends, and to thedark-skinned ones, "Beoqua. "

CHAPTER XXVII. 

GOING OUTSIDE. 

 "Do I sleep? Do I dream? Do I wonder and doubt? Are things what they seem? Or are visions about?"

I was now actually on my way home. It was not a dream, for here I was onboard the snug little ocean steamer "Dora, " belonging to the AlaskaCommercial Company, and I was on my way to St. Michael and Dawson. Forocean travel our steamer was a perfect one in all its appointments, being staunch and reliable, with accommodating officers. After taking alast look at Chinik, I went to my stateroom. Only one stop was madebefore we reached St. Michael, that being at Port Denbeigh, a new miningcamp where for some hours freight was unloaded. In about twenty-twohours from the time we left Chinik we were in St. Michael harbor, climbing down upon a covered barge which took us ashore. 

It was nearly two years since I had first landed at this dock, --then ina snow storm, now in the rain, --then with my brother, now alone. Not atall like Nome is this quiet little hamlet of St. Michael by the sea. Neither saloons nor disorderly places are allowed upon the island. Whatwas formerly a canteen for soldiers was now a small but tidy restaurant, where I ate a good dinner of beef-steak with an appetite allowable inAlaska. 

Upon the streets and about the barracks were many boys in blue, whilethe hotel parlors swarmed at dinner time with officers and their wivesand daughters, all richly and fashionably attired. At the parlor pianotwo ladies performed a duet, while the silken skirts of others rustledin an aristocratic manner over the thick carpet, and gentlemen in dresssuits and gold-laced uniforms gracefully posed and chatted. 

For my own part, a little homesick feeling had to be resolutely put downas I pulled on my old rain coat, and with umbrella and handbag trudgedout in the darkness and rain to look for my baggage. I had alreadysecured my transportation at the steamship office, where, at the handsof the kindly manager of the Alaska Commercial Company's affairs in thiscountry I had received the most courteous treatment I could desire. Withlittle delay I found my trunk and went on board the Yukon steamer T. C. Power. 

Some months before a consolidation of the three largest transportationcompanies in Alaska had been effected, including the Alaska CommercialCompany, and I was now traveling with the latter under the name of theNorthern Commercial Company, but I felt a security like that of beingin charge of an old and trustworthy friend, and was quite content. 

I had a long journey before me. We should reach Dawson in fourteen daysunless we met with delays, but a fast rising wind warned us that wemight encounter something of the sort where we were, and we did. For twodays and nights our steamer lay under the lee of the island, not daringto venture out in the teeth of the gale which buffeted us. Straining, creaking, swaying, first one way and then the other, we lay waiting forthe storm to abate. No river steamer with stern wheel and of shallowdraught, could safely weather the rough sea for sixty miles to theYukon's mouth, and we tried to be patient. 

Early on the morning of the third day we started, and for twelve hourswe ploughed our way through the waters with bow now deep in the troughof the sea, now lifted high in mid-air, to be met the next moment by anuprising roller, which, with a boom and a jar, sent a quiver through thewhole vessel. 

When at last the Yukon was reached, another obstacle appeared and westuck fast on a sand bar. Soon two other steamers lay alongside, waiting, as did we, for a high tide to float us. 

By night we lay in a dead calm. Indians in canoes came with fish andcurios to sell, and we watched the lights of the other steamers. 

When the high tide came, we floated off the bar, but the scene was oneof dull monotony, and it was not until the day following that we cameinto the hill country, and I was permitted to again see the dear trees Iloved so well, not one of which I had seen since leaving California. 

At Anvik there came on board a little missionary teacher bound forPhiladelphia, who had spent seven years with the natives in thisEpiscopal Mission without a vacation, and her stories were interestingin the extreme. 

Our days were uneventful. A broken stern wheel, enforced rests upon sandbars, frequent stops at wood yards with a few moments run upon shore inwhich to gather autumn leaves, and get a sniff of the woods, this wasour life upon the Yukon steamer for many days. After a while the nightsgrew too dark for safe progress, and the boat was tied up untildaylight. 

Russian Mission, Tanana, Rampart, Fort Yukon and the Flats were passed, and the days wore tediously on. We were literally worming our way upstream, with low water and dark nights to contend with, but a secondsummer was upon us with warm, bright sunshine, and the hills werebrilliantly colored. 

One morning we approached the towering Roquett Rock, so named byLieutenant Frederick Schwatka in his explorations down the Yukon yearsbefore, and connected with which is an Indian legend of some interest. 

This immense rock (so the story runs) once formed a part of the westernshore of the Yukon, and was one of a pair of towering cliffs of aboutthe same size, and with similar characteristics. Here the two hugecliffs lived for many geological periods in wedded bliss as man andwife, until finally family dissensions invaded the rocky household, andended by the stony-hearted husband kicking his wrangling wife into thedistant plain, and changing the course of the great river so that itflowed between them, to emphasize the perpetual divorce. The cliff andthe rock are still known as "the old man" and "the old woman, " thelatter standing in isolation upon a low, flat island with the muddyYukon flowing on both sides. 

At this time of the year the days in Alaska grow perceptibly shorter, and we were not surprised to find dusky twilight at five in theafternoon, and to notice the eerie loneliness of the dark, sweet scentedwoods a few hours later, when the steamer lay tied to the river's bank. 

One night after dinner a number of passengers sat idly about in thesaloon of our steamer. Many had grown tired of cards, or had lost theirmoney, and, finding themselves pitted against more lucky players, hadcalled a halt and looked for other occupation. Miners lounged about, chatting of the gold mines, their summer's work and experiences. BigCurly and his little black-eyed wife listened attentively for a time. 

The old miner was a born story teller, and knew a good yarn when heheard it. The boat was tied up for the night, and all was quiet aroundus. It was the time and place for a story. 

At last Big Curly hitched his chair out farther from the wall, andplaced his feet comfortably upon the rungs; then, shifting his tobaccofrom one cheek to the other, he asked if any one present had heard thestory of Nelson and the ghost. No one had heard it, and, after somecoaxing, this is the tale he told. 

The Ghost of Forty Mile. 

Alaska has long smiled over old Indian legends, but Yukon men are stillpuzzling over the nocturnal rambles of the ghost of a murdered man inthe Forty Mile District. Following the excitement of the discovery ofBonanza Bar and the sensational riches of Franklin Gulch came the murderof an old Frenchman named La Salle. Tanana Indians committed the crimein 1886. They crossed the mountains to Forty Mile, and killed La Sallein his cabin at the mouth of O'Brian Creek. With axes and bludgeons theold Frenchman's head was crushed beyond recognition. 

Three months later the snow lay thick upon the ground. Upon the branchesof trees it persistently hung, each added layer clinging tenaciouslybecause there was no breath of wind to send it to the ground. Occasionally a dead twig, weighted too heavily by the increasing fallof snow, broke suddenly and dropped noiselessly into a bed of featheryflakes, thus joining its sleeping companions, the leaves. 

[Illustration: ON BONANZA CREEK. ]

It was in January that two men might have been seen following theirdog-teams down a frozen stream emptying into Forty Mile River. Theywished to reach the mouth of the creek before they halted for the night. They had heard of a cabin in which they planned to spend the night, although it was a deserted one, and they were almost at the desiredpoint. 

The men were Swedes. They were strong and hardy fellows, and althoughfrost covered their clothing and hung in icicles about their faces, theyran contentedly behind the dog-teams in the semi-darkness, as only thesnow-light remained. 

"Hello!" called out Swanson finally to his companion. "Is that theplace, do you think?" pointing to the dim shape of a log cabin a littleahead. 

"Guess it is, but we'll find out. I'm nearly starved, and must stopsoon, any way, " said Nelson decidedly. "It's no use for us to travelfurther tonight. "

"So I think, " was the reply, as the dogs halted before the door, and themen entered the cabin. Here they found a good-sized room, containing onewindow. There was evidently a room on the other side, but with noconnecting door, the two cabins having been built together to savelaying one wall. 

"This is good enough for me, and much warmer than a tent--we'll stayhere till morning, and take the dogs inside, " said kind-hearted Nelson, already unhitching the dogs from a sled. 

Swanson did the same. The next moment their small store was carried intothe cabin, wood was collected, and a cheery fire soon roared up thechimney. 

After the men had eaten their supper and the dogs had been fed, pipeswere brought out; and, stretching themselves upon their fur sleepingbags before the fire, the miners smoked and chatted while resting theirweary limbs. 

Suddenly, in the midnight stillness they heard a strange noise in theother part of the cabin. Some one was moaning and crying for help. Therewas no mistaking the sound, and both men were wide awake and intentlylistening. 

It was the cry of some one in distress. The sounds grew more bloodcurdling. Nelson, unable to restrain himself longer, ran outside toinvestigate. Going to the window he looked inside. The sight he beheldcongealed his blood, and fastened him to the spot as in a trance. Thiswas the image of a man surrounded by a cloud of white, mist-likephosphorescent light, a deep scar standing out like a bleeding gash downthe side of the head. Then the forgotten story of the murdered La Sallecame to his mind, and for several minutes he was chained to the spot bythe terror of the spectacle. 

The apparition was half lying upon the floor, with arm uplifted, as ifwarding off a blow from some deadly instrument. Finally, in thedesperation of his terror, Nelson called his partner to come to hisassistance. Upon the approach of his companion he summoned enoughcourage to step to the door at the other end of the cabin, and try toopen it. It was held fast by some superhuman agency, which allowed thedoor to be only partly opened. 

Swanson, at sight of the ghostly visitor, was not so badly overcome ashis friend, and having an inquisitive turn of mind, wished to find ifthe apparition really existed. He called out, demanding to be told whowas there, but no answer came. 

Still the mysterious, unearthly noises came through the cabin door. Nosoughing of the wind could make such sounds had a tempest been blowing, but a deathly stillness prevailed, and no breath of air stirred. 

Then it was that Swanson gathered all that was left of his fastdisappearing courage, and said: "In the name of the Father, Son and HolySpirit, are you demon, man or ghost?"

Suddenly the door opened and in the uncertain, misty light theapparition raised its hands to the stars as if in prayer, then it grewdark and the ghostly visitor vanished as if the earth had engulfed itforever. 

While turning this tale over in mind later, I came to the conclusion, which seems a reasonable one, that some fortunate miner had, in allprobability, hidden an amount of golden treasure in or about the cabinon the creek, and wishing to keep others away, had circulated the ghoststory with good effect. 

When Eagle City was reached I telegraphed my brother to meet me at thesteamer's dock in Dawson, and my message was sent by one of Uncle Sam'sboys in blue in charge of the office. 

The town had grown considerably in the two years since I visited it, andnow boasted new government buildings, officer's quarters, and aPresbyterian church, besides new stores and shops. 

After Cudahy and Forty Mile, came Dawson, and we steamed up to thecity's dock in the morning fog, and were met by the usual multitude ofpeople, I having been seventeen days out from Golovin Bay. There, amongothers, waited my brother and his little son, and my joy at meeting themwas great. Landing, it was only a walk of a few minutes to my kind oldfather, and my brother's wife was not far away. 

I was now practically at home, for home is where our dear ones are, andsurroundings are matters of small moment. 

Three happy weeks followed, I went everywhere and noted well theimprovements in the camp since I last saw it. It was now a cleaner townevery way, with better order, good roads and bridges, new governmentbuildings, post-office and fine large schoolhouse. New frame churchesreplaced the old log ones in most cases. There was the governor's newpalatial residence which would never be graced by the presence of itsmistress as she and her babe had gone down to death a few weeks beforein the Islander disaster in Lynn Canal; and there was the same steadystream of gold from the wondrous Klondyke Creeks, which I was nowdetermined to visit. 

[Illustration: SKAGWAY RIVER, FROM THE TRAIN. ]

One bright, warm day, taking the hand of the small boy of the family, mysister and I started for Bonanza Creek. We were bound for the house of afriend who had invited us, and we would remain over night, as thedistance was five miles. My kodak and three big red apples weighedlittle in our hands, and we turned toward the Klondyke River in highspirits. 

For a mile the road was bordered with log cabins on the hillside, withthe famous little river flowing on the other. We crossed the fineOgilvie Bridge, and soon found ourselves upon Bonanza Creek, the streamwhich, with the Eldorado, had given to the world perhaps the major partof golden Klondyke treasure up to this date. Following the trail by ashort cut we crossed shaky foot bridges, rested upon logs along thetrail, and picked our way over boggy spots until our limbs were weary. 

Everywhere there were evidences of the industry of the miners, but theclaims and cabins looked deserted. Only in a few instances were men atwork near the mouth of the creek. Many people were going to and fromDawson, and bicycles and wagons were numerous. 

When we reached our destination we had walked five miles in the hotsunshine, and were hungry and warm, but a warm welcome from Mr. And Mrs. M. , as well as a good dinner, awaited us. 

After resting a while we were shown around the premises. Three logcabins were being built in a row upon the hillside, the one finishedbeing already occupied by the M. Family. Tunnels were being made in themountain by Mr. M. , as well as other claim owners near by, and acrossthe gulch mining operations were in full blast. On the M. Claimpreparations were being made for winter work, and it was expected that avaluable dump would be taken out before spring. For three hundred feetone tunnel entered the mountain back of the cabins, and we were invitedto go into it. 

Putting on our warmest wraps, with candles in hand, we followed ourguide, the proprietor, for some distance. It was like walking in arefrigerator, for the walls and floor of the tunnel were solidly frozenand sparkled with ice. Whether the bright specks we saw were alwaysfrost, we did not enquire, etiquette forbidding too much curiosity, butfrom the satisfied nods and smiles we understood that it was a goodclaim, though only recently purchased by Mr. M. , a handful of pudgy goldnuggets being shown us which fairly made our eyes water (because theydid not belong to us). 

Here we lodged all night, enjoying a graphophone entertainment in theevening. The next morning my kodak was brought out, and before leavingfor home I had several views to carry with me. 

Our walk back to Dawson was much easier than the one out to the claim. 

From this on, we made ready to leave Dawson for Seattle, and were soonupon our way. Again I was forced to say good-bye to my father andbrother, though they would follow us a month later, and together, mysister and I, stood with the little boy on the deck of the steamer, waving our good-byes. 

We now traveled in luxury. We occupied a large and elegant stateroom, ate first-class meals, and had nothing to do but enjoy ourselves. Tochange from steamer to steam cars at White Horse, which was now a goodmining town, was the work of an hour's time, while a day's ride toBennett and over the White Pass to Skagway was a real pleasure. 

We found the quiet little port of Skagway swarming with people rushingfor the steamers, and as if to give us variety we had considerabledifficulty in finding our trunks in the custom's house, and in gettingupon the steamer in the darkness of the late evening; but at last it wasall successfully accomplished, and we took our last look at Skagway. 

Eleven days after leaving Dawson we reached our journey's end, andlanded in Seattle, our home coming being a source of delight to our dearwaiting ones, as well as to ourselves; our safe arrival being anotherpositive proof of the mercy and goodness of God. 

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