ere he was. I did not believe the gang would disturb me in
grandmothers' 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 out
for the native named Koki, and bring him to me, which she did, the deaf
girl understanding by the motion of the child's lips what was being
said.

O Duk Dok then drew on her parkie, and went out.

"Koki," said I, when the native had entered the room a few minutes
later, and closed the door behind him, "will you go to my room--Number
three--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 will
find 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 door
behind 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 the
keys, revolver, and diaries which I had kept hidden for fear the lawless
fellows might find and destroy them.

I now felt much relieved. I did not think the gang would come to the
cabin, but in case they did there was the revolver, and grandmother's
two doors had locks, which if not the very strongest, were better than
none, and I fastened them immediately after Koki's departure.

May eighteenth: The night I slept in grandmother's cabin with Jennie
passed quietly for us. I slept in my clothes and muckluks, an old quilt
and fur parkie on some boards being my bed, though grandmother finally
gave me a double blanket for covering when I asked for it.

It was long past midnight before we slept. The child was restless, and
urged her grandmother to tell her Eskimo stories. O Duk Dok slept
heavily, 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 from
the 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 add
their part to the midnight orgies. The low droning of the old Eskimo
woman, telling her tales of the Innuits, of the Polar bear, the seal and
the walrus, of the birds, their habits and nestlings; this was the only
sound I heard.

After a time the others slept and I went to the window and looked o