A Woman who went to Alaska Part 24

"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, with a toss of her head, as she settled herself in the big arm chair in the sitting room, and poor Ricka, whose turn it was this week to prepare the meals, found herself in the embarra.s.sing position of compulsory cook for at least two of the men she most heartily despised in the camp, and this too 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 Alma and Mary will not, and I must pour the coffee. O, dear, what shall I have for supper?" and the poor girl looked fairly bowed down with anxiety.

"O, never mind them, Ricka," said I, "just give them what you had intended to give the rest of us. I suppose they think this is a roadhouse, and, if so, they can as well board here as others; but if Alma 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 expect them to change their verdict, as, indeed, I had no desire for them to do.

"I'm sure it is not a roadhouse for men of their cla.s.s," 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 till they have eaten; will you, Mary?"

"Indeed, I will not," was the reply from a pair of very set lips, at which Ricka and I retired to the kitchen to consult together, and prepare 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 could with lamps, while Ricka went to work at the range. We had a pa.s.sable supper, but not nearly so good as we usually have, for the official had not only taken us by surprise, but had come unbidden, and was not, (by the express orders of the business head of the restaurant firm), to be made welcome.

At any rate, Ricka and I did the best we could under the circ.u.mstances, the meal pa.s.sed in some way, and the official then renewed his request to be allowed to take all his meals in the Mission, meeting with nothing but an unqualified refusal, much to his evident disappointment.

I doubt very much now the probability of my getting any more copying to do for him, as he says I could have persuaded Alma to board him if I had been so inclined; but then I never was so inclined, and have about decided that I do not want his work at any price.

January twenty-fifth: This has been a very cold, windy day, but three of the men came in from prospecting on the creeks, and have little to report. To think of living in tents, or even native igloos, in such weather for any length of time whatever, is enough to freeze one's marrow, and I think the men deserve to "strike it rich" to repay them for so much discomfort and suffering. Mr. L. and B. walked to the Home and back today--twenty-four miles in the cold. I bought two more fox skins of the storekeeper with which to make my coat longer.

Mr. H. and Miss J. came to hold a meeting in the kitchen for the natives, and Mollie interpreted for them, as Ivan was not present. They all enjoy singing very much, and are trying to learn some new songs.

Contrary to my expectations, they learn the tunes before they do the words, which are English, of course.

Later the musician came over and sang and played for an hour and a half at the organ, which all in the house enjoyed; but he is worried about his friend, who was bitten by the mad-dog, and is in poor health, he told us tonight. They have lately moved into the old schoolhouse, and like there better than their former lodgings, which were very cold.

There are three of them in the schoolhouse, or rather cabin, for it is an old log building, with dirt roof, upon which the gra.s.s and weeds grow tall in summer, and under the eaves of the new schoolhouse, a frame structure with a small pointed tower.

Sunday, January twenty-seventh: The missionaries held a meeting in the sitting room this forenoon at which the Commissioner was present, not because he was interested in the service, Alma says. I suppose he had nothing else to do, and happened to get up earlier than usual. I presided at the organ, and Miss J. led the singing. The day was a very bright one, but the thermometer registered thirty degrees below zero.

The missionaries have taken Alma with them to visit for a few days, and do some sewing at the Home. We all ran out upon the ice with them, but did not go far, as it was very cold. For a low mercury these people do not stay indoors, but go about as they like dressed from top to toe in furs, and do not suffer; but let the wind blow a stiff gale, and it is not the same proposition.

Four men came from the camp of the shipwrecked people, the father of Freda, the little girl, being one. They say the child and her mother are well, and as comfortable as they can be made for the present, but in the spring 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 is the twenty-eighth of January, and between twenty-five and thirty degrees below zero, nothing can deter Mr. L., who has made up his mind to go to the headwaters of the big river regardless of weather. L., B. and a native are to compose the party, and this time they are going with reindeer. They will take with them a tent, stove, fur sleeping bags, matches, "grub," guns and ammunition, not to mention fry pans and a few tins for cooking purposes. Then they must each take a change of wearing apparel 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 has been for days cleaning, rubbing and polishing, while hunting knives have also received attention. The party may have, in some way, to depend upon these 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. The reindeer were fresh and lively, and when everything was loaded and lashed upon the three sleds, the animals were hitched to them, when, presto! the scene was changed in a moment. Each deer ran in several directions at the same time as if demented, overturning sleds and men, tossing up the snow like dust under their hoofs, and flinging their antlers about like implements of battle. Now each man was put to his wit's end to keep hold of the rope attached to the horns of the deer he was driving, and we who had gone out upon the ice to watch the departure feared greatly for the lives of the men interested.

At one time Mr. H., who was kindly a.s.sisting, was flung upon the ground, while a rearing, plunging animal was poised in mid-air above him; and I uttered a shriek of terror at the sight, thinking he would be instantly killed. However, he was upon his feet in an instant, and pursuing the animals, still clinging to the rope, as the deer must never, under any consideration, be allowed to get away with the loaded sleds.

When one of the boys attempted to sit upon a load, holding the rope as a guide in his hands, there would be a whisk, a whirl, and quicker than a flash over would go the load, sled and man, rolling over and over like a football on a college campus.

At this time the sun shone out brightly, tinting rosily the distant hills, and spreading a carpet of light under our feet upon the ice-covered surface of the bay. The clear, cold air we breathed was fairly exhilarating, sparkling like diamonds in the sun-beams, and causing the feathery snowflakes under our feet to crackle with a delightful crispness.

When the elasticity of the reindeer's spirits had been somewhat lessened by exercise, a real start was made, and we watched them until only small dots on the distant trail could be distinguished.

Something unpleasant has happened. M., the Finlander, told me this morning that he wants the room I occupy upstairs, and, of course, I will have to give it up. As the other rooms upstairs must be left for the men, of whom there are such numbers, there is no place for me except on the old wooden settle in the sitting room. To be sure, this is in a warm corner, but there are many and serious inconveniences, one being that I must of necessity be the last one to retire, and this is usually midnight.

For some time past I have been turning over in my mind the advisability of asking for the situation of nurse and teacher to Jennie and Charlie, and living in the hotel. Supplies are growing shorter in the Mission as the 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 I am 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. To earn my board and room in the hotel by teaching and taking care of the two children I should be making an equivalent to four dollars a day, and I could have a room, at last, to myself. This is the way I have figured it out; whether Mollie and the Captain will see it in the same light remains to be seen.

Later: I ran over to see Mollie and her husband, and to present my plan to them. They both a.s.sented quickly, the Captain saying he does not want Jennie 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 and trapping, as she thinks it better for Jennie, Charlie and herself to have fresh game, of which they are so fond, than to eat canned meats. I think it is better for them, and shall not object to some of the same fare myself when it is plenty. I am very glad, indeed, of the opportunity to earn my board and room in this way, for my work will only be with and for the two children, and I love them very much.

January thirtieth: A bad storm came up this afternoon with wind and snow. At the Mission one of the newcomers is making two strong reindeer sleds. He says he is used to Alaska winters, has been up into the Kotzebue Sound country, and is now going again with reindeer as soon as his sleds are finished. He is exceedingly fond of music, and enjoys my playing. I wonder if he will offer to stake a claim for me! I will not ask him.

January thirty-first: This terrible storm continues with snow drifting badly, and with wind most bitter cold. What about the boys on the Koyuk trail? I fear they will freeze to death. I have finished six drill parkies for the storekeeper, but cannot get them to him in the blizzard.

February first: I found when calling upon Jennie today that her mother was sick in bed with a very bad throat, so I spent most of the day and evening there. I did all I could for Jennie as well as Mollie, doing my best to amuse the child, who is still strapped down on her bed, and must find the day long, though she has a good deal of company. I had a first-cla.s.s six o'clock dinner at the hotel tonight,--that is, for Alaska, at this season of the year.

February second: This is my birthday, and I have been thinking of my dear old mother so far away, who never forgets the date of her only daughter'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 a prospect before me which is as bright as that of most persons in this vicinity. If I could send my mother a telegram of a dozen words, I think they would read like this: "I am well and happy, with fair prospects.

G.o.d is good." I think that would cheer her considerably.

It is beginning to seem a little like spring, and the water is running down the walls and off the windows in rivers upon the floors of the Mission, which we are glad are bare of carpets; the snow having sifted into the attic and melted. The warm rain comes down at intervals, and we are hoping for an early spring.

Mollie is really very sick, and must have a doctor, her throat being terribly swollen on one side. The pain and fever is intense, and though we are doing all we know how to do, she gets no better. Some men started out for the doctor at White Mountain, but there was too much water on the ice, and they returned.

February sixth: The man who made the two reindeer sleds for his Kotzebue trip has gone at last with two loads and three reindeer. He wanted his drill parkie hood bordered with fur, as I had done some belonging to others, 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 day before he left the Mission.

"O, I would like it so much!" said I, really delighted. "I did not wish to 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 I find anything good I will remember you."

"Shall I have a paper made out?" I inquired, feeling it would be safer and 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 very cordially, 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 old mail carrier and stampeder of experience in this country, he ought to know how to travel, and, being a Norwegian, he is well used to the snow and the cold. He says he always travels alone, though I told him he might sometime get lost in a storm and freeze to death, at which he only laughed, and said he was not at all afraid. Two years afterwards he was frozen to death on the trail near Teller City, northwest of Nome. He was an expert on snowshoes or ski, both of which he learned to use when a boy in Norway.

February tenth: The two young men, B. and L., have returned from the Koyuk trip, having been able to travel only three days of the eleven since they left here on account of blizzards, but they will not give it up in this way.

Mollie and Jennie are better, the doctor having been here two days. For the little invalid there is nothing of such interest as Apuk's baby, and as the child is well wrapped and brought in often to see her, she is highly delighted. She holds the baby in her arms, and hushes it to sleep as any old woman might, lifting a warning finger if one enters the room with noise, for fear of waking it. Little Charlie cries with whooping cough a great deal and is taken to Ageetuk's house when he gets troublesome, as he worries both Mollie and Jennie. Under no consideration is Charlie to come near enough to Jennie to give her the whooping-cough, for she coughs badly already. She and I make paper dolls by the dozen, and cloth dresses for her real dolls, which, so late in the season, are getting quite dilapidated and look as though they had been in the wars.

Many natives are now bringing beautiful furs into camp for sale, and among others one man brought a cross fox which was black, tipped with yellow, another which was a lovely brown, and a black fox valued at two hundred dollars which the owner refused to sell for less, though offered one hundred for it. I have never seen more lovely furs anywhere, and I longed to possess them.