uskokwim.

CHAPTER XX

GOLD

Toward the end of September another heavy gale swept the Island. This
time the little party was snug and warm in the cabin with the
provisions under cover, and while the storm raged outside, Ellen and
Boreland climbed up into the loft and made a list of the supplies on
hand. In the log Ellen had begun to keep the day they landed on Kon
Klayu she made this entry:

"Heavy gale blowing from the southwest. We hear again that strange
rolling sound from the south cliffs. Discovered today that all rolled
oats and flour is musty from being wetted by the tide when we landed,
and much of it is spoiled. Fortunately the flour caked on the outside
and the inside is fairly well preserved. We used the last of our
butter today. We have sugar for one more week."

Though she said little her growing anxiety communicated itself in some
occult way to the other members of her household, even to Loll, to whom
she gave daily lessons in reading, writing and arithmetic. The little
fellow was at this time moved to write and illustrate a book on some
discarded letter-heads of a defunct life insurance company. Ellen
breathed a prayer of thanks that he so well entertained himself on
stormy days.

On the first page of this work appeared the text of Old Mother Hubbard
written in the boy's large, childish, downhill hand with spelling of
distinct originality. Above it in a flaming red wrapper a lady with a
large bust and impossible tiny feet, slanted tipsily toward some
shelves--conspicuously empty, while in the offing quite aloof from the
lady a lean, pale-green animal stood with despondent drooping head and
tail. Other nursery favorites that had to do with eating and food,
followed. They were illustrated in red and black and green. The red
was made by a crayon pencil, miraculously produced by Kayak Bill; the
green was obtained by the simple expedient of chewing up rice-grass.
Toward the end of the book were many of Lollie's own poems, composed
for his mother, and beautified with marginal decorations of flying
gulls, sailing ships and fat button-eyed daisies, all bearing evidence
of repeated erasures with a wet little finger.

"The red sun sinks down in the sea of the West,
The wind goes to sleep.
Seagulls flies homes to their nests.
And the gold stars their watches keeps.
I think the weather will be fine.
So the _Hoonah_ can come in.
If she don't we will be out of grub.
And O