ut.
At my right, only a stone's throw away, was the Mission, its windows and
doors all fastened, and its occupants gone. I felt a heart-sinking
sensation as I thought of the friends who were there lately. Across the
way was the old schoolhouse, in which were the musician, his partner and
the deaf man, who had been bitten by the mad dog. They were within
calling distance, and for that I felt thankful. I had dreaded the night
in the cabin for fear that I should suffer for fresh air, but seeing a
broken pane of glass into which some cloth had been stuffed, I removed
the latter, and allowed the pure air to enter. Of course the place was
scented with seal oil, but grandmother's cabin was comparatively tidy
and clean.

Next morning, when we knew that breakfast was over, we went in a body to
the hotel, grandmother carrying Jennie on her back, according to Eskimo
custom. Some of the men were still sleeping off their dissipation of the
night before. Nothing was said about our remaining away, and the Eskimo
women spent the day with us. Others also came, called quietly in to see
Jennie, and remained to the meals I was glad to give them for their
company.

When six o'clock arrived, and still we saw nothing of Mollie, I felt
anxious. If she did not return it meant another night in the native hut
for us. Eight, nine, ten o'clock--thank God! She had come at last. I
could have hugged her for joy. She had nearly one hundred ptarmigan,
enough to last till the captain came home, and would not leave us again
alone.

Later: The captain returned from Nome, having made the trip of
eighty-five miles and back by dog-team in four days and nights, a very
quick trip indeed. The "toughs" have subsided, and are on their good
behavior for the present, at least, fearing what the captain will say
and do when their last doings are reported, but I understand that most
of them are mortally offended at my remaining at grandmother's, as no
one 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 house
for hours together, enjoying the warm sunshine and pleasant air, the
little girl clothed from head to foot in furs. Never has a springtime
been so welcome to me, perhaps because in striking contrast to the long,
cold winter through which we have just passed. From