had to go as a deck hand!

CHAPTER X

THE PIGEON

A morning came favorable for the departure of the _Hoonah_. Sunshine
flooded the peaks, the hills, the post of Katleean. A stiff easterly
breeze ruffled the bay into pale golden-green, and overhead long,
white, scarf-like clouds streaked the blue. "Mares' tails" Kayak Bill
called them, as he stood on the beach shifting his sombrero forward
over his eyes so that he might better engage himself in what is known
in Alaska as "taking a look at the weather," a proceeding which becomes
second nature to those who live in the North where travel depends on
wind, tide and atmospheric conditions.

The time of saying good-bye was at hand. Silvertip, with one of his
countrymen and Gregg Harlan were already aboard the schooner. The
White Chief stood on a driftlog watching Boreland load the last trifles
into a whale-boat some hundred yards below him. One hand was hooked
beneath the trader's scarlet belt; the other held an unlighted
cigarette. The wind ruffling the long dark hair on his bare head gave
him a lean and savage look.

Kayak Bill, who had been unusually silent all morning, left off
searching for weather signs, and sauntered over to him. His eyes
narrowed slightly as he looked keenly into Kilbuck's face.

"Chief," he said nonchalantly, as he drew his pipe from the pocket of
his mackinaw, "you and me's grazed conside'able on the same range. We
ain't never got in each other's way. . . . There's some things about
you I ain't no nature for a-tall--but you been purty square with
me. . . . Likewise I'm not goin' round tellin' all I know about you.
Everybody to his own cemetery, I say." The old man took his pipe from
his mouth and faced the trader again. "But before I go a-rampin' off
on this vacation o' mine, I want to say this, Chief: I'm not knowin'
nothin' but hearsay about this Island o' Kon Klayu--but--yars ago I
lost out in the matter o' family and I'm thinkin' a heap o' this
Boreland outfit now. I'm trustin' to you, Chief, not to ring in no
cold deck on 'em--or me. I'm figgerin' on seein' you at the Island o'
Kon Klayu in about six weeks with the balance o' the grub."

"You needn't be so all-fired serious about it, Kayak. I'll take care
of the grub all right. You say yourself that I've always played fair
with you."

"Yas, Chief," drawled the old man, "but they ain't never been no women
in the game before. Women and dogs is hell for startin'