n utterly different
world--the warm, wet coast country. The air was moist, the grasses
and tall ferns were luxuriant, and the forest trees immense. Out into
a sun-bright bay we swept with a feeling of being in safe waters once
more, and rounded-to about sunset at a point on the island just above
a frowzy little town. This was Wrangell Island and the town was Fort
Wrangell, one of the oldest stations on the coast.

I had placed my horse under bond intending to send him through to
Vancouver to be taken care of by the Hudson Bay Company. He was still
a Canadian horse and so must remain upon the wharf over night. As he
was very restless and uneasy, I camped down beside him on the
planks.

I lay for a long time listening to the waters flowing under me and
looking at the gray-blue sky, across which stars shot like distant
rockets dying out in the deeps of the heavens in silence. An odious
smell rose from the bay as the tide went out, a seal bawled in the
distance, fishes flopped about in the pools beneath me, and a man
playing a violin somewhere in the village added a melancholy note. I
could hear the boys crying, "All about the war," and Ladrone
continued restless and eager. Several times in the night, when he
woke me with his trampling, I called to him, and hearing my voice he
became quiet.

I took breakfast at a twenty-five cent "joint," where I washed out of
a tin basin in an ill-smelling area. After breakfast I grappled with
the customs man and secured the papers which made Ladrone an American
horse, free to eat grass wherever it could be found under the stars
and stripes. I started immediately to lead him to pasture, and this
was an interesting and memorable experience.

There are no streets, that is to say no roads, in Wrangell. There are
no carriages and no horses, not even donkeys. Therefore it was
necessary for Ladrone to walk the perilous wooden sidewalks after me.
This he did with all the dignity of a county judge, and at last we
came upon grass, knee deep, rich and juicy.

Our passage through the street created a great sensation. Little
children ran to the gates to look upon us. "There goes a horsie,"
they shouted. An old man stopped me on the street and asked me where
I was taking "T'old 'orse." I told him I had already ridden him over
a thousand miles and now he was travelling with me back to God's
country. He looked at me in amazement, and walked off tapping his
forehead as a sign that I must certainly