aps himself being inclined to see that plenty of food was
on hand, since his captors were not disposed to let him go away. The
Aleuts, who never see any fresh beef, and who live in a country where
not even caribou are often found, are very fond of bear meat, which the
more civilized ones call "beef." The captive seemed to understand
perfectly well how to take care of this "beef," and he took out the long
tenderloins from the back of each cub and separated the hams. For the
big bear he did not seem to care so much, and made signs to show that it
was tough and hard to eat. Rob insisted, however, that he should take
some of the choicer parts of the bear also, since it seemed a shame to
let it waste. They loaded their dory down as heavily as they dared, and
so, dragging on the painter and poling with the oars, at last they got
their cargo up to camp, mooring the dory alongside the bidarka.

Without much more ado Jimmy began to search around in the grass and
found some long poles, one end of which he rested on the roof of the
barabbara, supporting the other on some crotches which he set up. Across
these poles he laid smaller sticks and made a rough drying-rack. He
showed the boys how to cut the meat into long, thin strips, and under
this, after it was stretched on the rack, he built a small fire, so that
the smoke would aid the sun in curing the meat--none too sure a process
in a country where rain was apt to come at any hour. After this the
Aleut turned toward the dory, and hauled out something which the boys
had not noticed before. He busied himself at the edge of the lagoon.

"What's he doing, John?" asked Rob.

They all stepped up and watched him.

"Why, that's the intestines of the old bear," said Rob, at last. "I
didn't see him throw them into the boat."

"I know what he's doing," said John. "He's going to clean 'em out. They
make all sorts of things. For instance, that hood around the bidarka is
made out of this sort of thing, I believe. And then they make other
outfits--"

"_Kamelinka!_" said Jimmy, suddenly, holding up a part of the intestines
and smiling. He motioned to his own sleeves.

"_Da! Da!_" exclaimed John, in Aleut language. "Yes, that's so! Sure!

"He means he is going to make one of their rain-coats out of it," he
explained to the others. "A _kamelinka_ is made out of these membranes,
and they put it on like a coat, and no water can get through it. Didn't
you ever see one? They tear if they're dr