deeds to as many claims,
with a fair prospect of others; but I could not decide to remain another
winter. I was determined to go to St. Michael, up the Yukon to Dawson,
and "outside," and laid my plans accordingly. Letters from my father and
brother in Dawson had been received.

[Illustration: CLAIM ON BONANZA CREEK.]

How my heart ached when I thought of leaving the little sick girl and
Charlie, the latter now grown wilful, but still so bright and pretty. I
wanted to take both with me, but, no, I could not.

The little girl's work was not ended. Hers is a wonderful mission, and
she is surely about to fulfill it. Born as she was in a rough mining
camp at the foot of the barren hills, she was given the Eskimo name of
Yahkuk, meaning a little hill, and she, like an oasis in a desert place,
is left here to cheer, love, and help others.

Many times I have seen evidence of the sweet and gentle influences going
out from the life of little Yahkuk as she lies upon her cot of pain. A
tall, brown miner enters the living room, goes to the little bed by the
window, speaks softly, and, bending over the tiny girl, kisses her. Then
her big, black eyes glance brightly into blue ones looking down from
above, full red lips part in a cordial smile, while the one solitary
dimple in the smooth, round cheek pricks its way still deeper, and small
arms go up around his neck. When the man turns, his face wears a soft
and tender expression as though he were looking at some beautiful sight
far away, and, perhaps, he is. God grant that the sweet memory of that
little child's kiss may be so lasting that all their lives, he and
others, may be purer and better men.

When August came I sailed away. The "Dora" had entered the bay in the
morning and found my trunk packed and waiting; it was then only the work
of a little time to make ready to leave. To my good missionary friends I
had already said good-bye, and the captain and Mollie were kindly
regretful. With tears in my eyes, but with real pain in my heart I bade
Jennie good-bye, and stepped into the little boat which was to carry me
to the "Dora."

Farewell, then, to Chinik, the home of the north wind and blizzard.
Farewell to the ice fields of Golovin, so tardy in leaving in summer,
and to Keechawik and Chinik, whose clear rushing waters so cheered us in
spring time. Farewell to the moss-covered hills and paths thickly
bordered with blossoms. Farewell to my white-faced friends, and to the
d