hill I recall as one of the most
miserable in my life. The hut was still smaller than the previous one,
like it without door and window, and so low that one was bent double all
the time. Walls and roof alike were covered with a thick coating of
frost. The only wood discoverable in the dark was half-dry birch which
would not burn in the stove but sent out volumes of smoke that blinded
us. When the hut did begin to get a little warm, moisture from the roof
dropped on everything. There we seven men huddled together, chilly and
damp, choked and weary--a wretched band. There was no room for the
necessary cooking operations; we had to cook and eat in relays; and how
we slept, in what way seven men managed to pack themselves and stretch
themselves in those narrow quarters, I cannot tell. However, we said our
prayers and went to bed, snow falling heavily. The Indians were soon
snoring, but sleep would not come to me, tired as I was, and I had not
slept at all the previous night. So presently I took trional, X grs.,
and dozed off till morning.

Then we resolved to divide forces rather than subject ourselves to the
miserable inconvenience of overcrowding these tiny huts, and at this
stage of the journey it was possible to do so without losing a whole
day, for there was a cabin for the noon rest. It was arranged that the
mail-man should start first and make the full day's run if possible,
while we should "call it a day" at the half-way hut.

So Bob and his Indians sallied forth while yet my boys were reading
their lessons to me, and when they were done we hitched up and followed.
And as soon as we were down the hill and started along the bald flat, it
was evident that we were out of the deep snowfall, for the present at
any rate, and we plucked up spirit, for we were now to cross the wide,
open, wind-swept uplands of the headwaters of the Melozitna and Tozitna,
tributaries of the Yukon--the "Tozi" and "Melozi," as the white men call
them--where snow never lies deep or long. We were out of the Koyukuk
watershed now and in country drained by direct tributaries of the
Yukon. The going was now incomparably the best we had had since we left
the mission, the snow was light and we had the mail-carrier's trail;
but, although the temperature had risen to 21 deg. below, a keen wind put
our parkee hoods up and our scarfs around our faces and made our 60 deg.
below clothing none too warm. In three hours we had reached the Melozi
cabin, alth