us the Captain
had suddenly resolved to call at Kingigamoot in case the missionary
needed assistance, and on hearing of our plight at once offered the
Expedition a passage to Nome City, whither the _Sadie_ was bound.
Bidding farewell to our kind friends at the Mission, without whose
assistance we should indeed have fared badly, we soon were aboard the
clean and comfortable little steamer. A warm welcome awaited us from her
skipper, a jovial Heligolander, who at the same time imparted to us the
joyful news that the war in South Africa was at an end. Twenty-four
hours later we were once more in civilisation, for during the summer
there is frequent steam communication between the remote although
up-to-date mining city of Nome and our final destination, New York.

[Footnote 68: In the summer of 1901, $30,000 were taken out of this
creek.]

Cape Nome derives its name from the Indian word "_No-me_," which
signifies in English, "I don't know." In former days, when whalers
anchored here to trade, the invariable answer given by the natives to
all questions put by the white men was "_No-me_," meaning that they did
not understand, and the name of the place was thus derived. On Cape
Nome, four years ago an Arctic desert, there now stands a fine and
well-built city. In winter the place can only be reached by dog-sled,
after a fatiguing, if not perilous, journey across Alaska, but in the
open season you may now travel there almost any week in large liners
from San Francisco. It seemed like a dream to land suddenly in this
modern town, within a day's journey of Whalen with all its savagery and
squalor, and it was somewhat trying to have to walk up the crowded main
street in our filthy, ragged state. Eventually, however, we were rigged
up at a well-stocked clothing establishment in suits of dittos which
would hardly have passed muster in Bond Street, but which did very well
for our purpose. And that evening, dining at a luxurious hotel, with
people in evening dress, palms, and a string band around us, I could
scarcely realise that only a few days ago we were practically starving
in a filthy Siberian village. Handsome buildings, churches, theatres,
electric light and telephones are not usually associated with the
ice-bound Arctic, but they are all to be found in Nome City, which is
now connected by telegraph with the outside world.

And yet the first log-cabin here was only built in the winter of 1898.
This formed the nucleus of a to