ter at the least strange noise. A story is told that
the barking of a little pet dog belonging to a Russian at one of the
rookeries lost him a hundred thousand dollars, for the seals took fright
and scurried away before any one could say 'Jack Robinson!'"

"Rather an expensive pup!" commented Ted. "But what about the
seals, daddy?"

"You seem to think I am an encyclopedia on the seal question," said his
father. "There is not much else to tell you."

"How can they manage always to kill the right ones?" demanded Ted.

"The gay bachelor seals herd together away from the rest and sleep at
night on the rocks. Early in the morning the Aleuts slip in between them
and the herd and drive them slowly to the killing-ground, where they are
quickly killed and skinned and the skins taken to the salting-house. The
Indians use the flesh and blubber, and the climate is such that before
another year the hollow bones are lost in the grass and earth."

"What becomes of the skins after they are salted?"

"They are usually sent to London, where they are prepared for market.
The work is all done by hand, which is one reason that they are so
expensive. They are first worked in saw-dust; cleaned, scraped, washed,
shaved, plucked, dyed with a hand-brush from eight to twelve times,
washed again and freed from the least speck of grease by a last bath in
hot sawdust or sand."

"I don't wonder a sealskin coat costs so much," said Ted? "if they have
got to go through all that performance. I wish we could have seen the
islands, but I'd hate to see the seals killed. It doesn't seem like
hunting just to knock them on the head. It's too much like the
stock-yards at home."

"Yes, but it's a satisfaction to know that it's done in the easiest
possible way for the animals.

"What a lot you are learning way up here in Alaska, aren't you, son?
To-morrow we'll be at Nome, and then your head will be so stuffed with
mines and mining that you will forget all about everything else."

"I don't want to forget any of it," said Ted. "It's all bully."

CHAPTER X

IN THE GOLD COUNTRY

A low sandy beach, without a tree to break its level, rows of plain
frame-houses, some tents and wooden shanties scattered about, the surf
breaking over the shore in splendid foam,--this was Teddy's first
impression of Nome. They had sailed over from St. Michael's to see the
great gold-fields, and both the boys were full of eagerness to be on
land. It seemed, however