ure. Her name was Mollie.

One day in the early springtime, nearly a dozen years ago, when the
winter's ice was still imprisoned in the bays and sounds of Behring
Sea, though the warm sun had for weeks been shining and already seams
appeared upon the ice in many places, the captain attempted the trip by
dog-team from St. Michael to Golovin Bay. With him were four trusty
natives, and three dog-teams, the animals being of the hardy Eskimo
breed, and well-nigh impervious to cold, their long, thick hair making
an effective protection.

His men were experienced, knowing the country perfectly, including a
knowledge of winter trails and methods of traveling such as all Eskimos
possess, and though the weather was not just what the captain might have
wished, he decided to make the start, and left St. Michael in good shape
for the long trip. The strong sleds with high-back handle bar and railed
sides were firmly packed with freight, which was securely lashed down.
The dogs were driven in pairs, eleven to a sled, the eleventh being in
each case a fine leader and called such, besides having his own Eskimo
name, as did also the four men who were warmly dressed in furs from head
to foot. These natives were familiar with little English, but as the
captain had made himself acquainted with their language they had no
difficulty in making each other understood.

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

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

Dressed in their squirrel skin parkies, with wide-bordered hoods upon
their heads, reindeer muckluks on their feet and mittens of skin upon
their hands, stood Ah Chugor Ruk, Ung Kah Ah Ruk, Iamkiluk and Punni
Churah, long