that I objected to his going, and asked the missionary why he
was taking him.

"Such a little helpless creature will only be in the way," I said; "you
had better pass him up to the Indian boys on the wharf, to be taken home
to play with the children. This trip is not likely to be good for
toy-dogs. The poor silly thing will be in rain and snow for weeks or
months, and will require care like a baby."

But his master assured me that he would be no trouble at all; that he
was a perfect wonder of a dog, could endure cold and hunger like a bear,
swim like a seal, and was wondrous wise and cunning, etc., making out a
list of virtues to show he might be the most interesting member of the
party.

Nobody could hope to unravel the lines of his ancestry. In all the
wonderfully mixed and varied dog-tribe I never saw any creature very
much like him, though in some of his sly, soft, gliding motions and
gestures he brought the fox to mind. He was short-legged and
bunchy-bodied, and his hair, though smooth, was long and silky and
slightly waved, so that when the wind was at his back it ruffled,
making him look shaggy. At first sight his only noticeable feature was
his fine tail, which was about as airy and shady as a squirrel's, and
was carried curling forward almost to his nose. On closer inspection you
might notice his thin sensitive ears, and sharp eyes with cunning
tan-spots above them. Mr. Young told me that when the little fellow was
a pup about the size of a woodrat he was presented to his wife by an
Irish prospector at Sitka, and that on his arrival at Fort Wrangel he
was adopted with enthusiasm by the Stickeen Indians as a sort of new
good-luck totem, was named "Stickeen" for the tribe, and became a
universal favorite; petted, protected, and admired wherever he went, and
regarded as a mysterious fountain of wisdom.

On our trip he soon proved himself a queer character--odd, concealed,
independent, keeping invincibly quiet, and doing many little puzzling
things that piqued my curiosity. As we sailed week after week through
the long intricate channels and inlets among the innumerable islands and
mountains of the coast, he spent most of the dull days in sluggish ease,
motionless, and apparently as unobserving as if in deep sleep. But I
discovered that somehow he always knew what was going on. When the
Indians were about to shoot at ducks or seals, or when anything along
the shore was exciting our attention, he would rest his