ar above their knees,
and water-tight, but my rubber-boots had never been put to a test like
this, only coming a little above my knees, where the soft tops were
confined by a drawstring, and this water was very cold, as I had good
reason to know.

However, there was nothing to do but go on, first watching the others,
and then plunging boldly in. I drew my boot-tops higher, fastened the
strings securely, picked up my short skirts and wound them closely about
me, but not in a manner to impede my progress, and stepped in.

By this time the dogs and men were upon the sands, and making for home,
only a few rods away, but I took my time, walking slowly in order that
the water should not slop over the tops of my boots, and we finally
reached the beach and the house safely.

CHAPTER XXVI.

GOOD-BYE TO GOLOVIN BAY.

On the morning of the twenty-sixth of June I awoke to find that the ice
had drifted out to sea in the night, eight days after Mollie and I had
taken our twelve miles trip across the bay and return. Then came hard
rain and wind, that, for several days, blew the ice back into the bay,
first to one side, and then to the other, so that the steamers waiting
to come in could not do so for fear of the drifting floes. By the
thirtieth of June schooners were coming into the bay with passengers and
freight, and the coast steamers, "Elmore" and "Dora," had begun to make
regular trips to and from Nome.

With them came mails from the outside, with newspapers and tidings of
friends in the States. Then our fingers trembled at opening our letters
until we found that all our dear ones were well, and we heartily thanked
the Lord. There were other white women in camp by this time, and many
strangers at the hotel, among others, officials, and those in authority.

Since the stone-throwing episode the Marshal had been doing duty as
watchman, sleeping during the day and guarding the house nights, the
heavy iron "bracelets" in his inner coat pocket weighing scarcely more
than the loaded revolver in his belt.

Our little sick girl being obliged now to keep her bed continually, with
no more playing in the sand and sunshine, although her cough had left
her, was still the same sweet, patient child she had been through all
her illness, and my whole time was given to her. Before one of the sunny
south windows of the living room we placed her cot each morning, and
here she received her numerous friends, both Eskimo and white, and