and other garments
hung around the stove to dry are almost past counting, and the odor is
stifling; but the clothing must be dried somewhere, and there is no
other place. An engine room would be the very best spot I know for
drying so many wet furs, and I wish we had one here.

In speaking to one of the men today about prospecting my claim, I told
him I would furnish the grub, but he said very kindly, "I wouldn't take
any 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 thought
was 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 at
the handle-bars until I was reeking with perspiration, afterwards giving
Jennie 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 in
all, and some are getting ready to leave tomorrow to do some staking of
claims up near the station. M. said if the musician were only here, and
they could get a dog-team, he would like to get him to go with him on a
staking 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 he
would go, and furnish dogs if possible; but the ones he tried to get
were engaged, and that plan fell through, much to his discouragement.
Learning this, I determined to go to the captain at the hotel, and see
if I could procure dogs from him for the trip. He said yes, I could have
his best dogs, and that a mail carrier is here resting who will lend us
his dogs, so that was all arranged.

Location papers then had to be written out, grub boxes packed, a tent
looked up, and many things attended to before they left, so that others
in 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, when
they would sneak quietly out of camp with their dogs and scamper away
among 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 is
the custom with Alaska "stampeders."

January fifth: Mollie asked me today to go with her to visit her fox
traps, and I immediately decided to go. We started about half-past