toward
shore Manard heels over till we take water.

"'Lie still, you blame fool!' says I. 'If you feel that way about it
I'll stay with the ship, of course.' I can see the corner of his mouth
curl up at that, and he slides back into position. Then I know that
he'll let me stick as long as I don't try to pull out and leave him
flat. You really can't blame a corpse much under the circumstances.
However, I can't swim, so I try to square myself. I make conversation of
a polite and friendly nature, and the old boy settles back to enjoy
himself.

"Well, this one-sided talkfest gets tiresome after a while. I run out of
topics, so I tell him funny stories. Sometimes he likes them, and
sometimes he 'most jumps out of the box. Sore? Say, when I pull a wheeze
that he don't like he makes it known quick, and I sit clutching the
gunnels, with my hair on end while he rocks the boat like a demon.

"When I get to the mouth of the river it's night. I find a stiff breeze
blowing and the bay covered with whitecaps, so I try to convince Manard
that we'd better camp. But I no more than suggest it till I have to bail
for dear life. Seeing that he's dead set to keep going, I kiss myself
good-by and paddle out across the bay. How we ever made it I don't know,
but along about midnight we blow into Chinik, with me singing songs to
my passenger and cracking 'Joe Millers' that came over in seventy-six.
I'm still pretty drunk.

"The trader tells me that the coffin hasn't come from Nome yet. But the
steamer is due before morning, so I ask him to cache Manard somewhere
and wake me up when the boat comes. Then I go to the hay. I'm tuckered
out. It seems that the coaster comes in a few hours later, but the
trader is dealing a stud game and tells the purser to dump his freight
on the beach. They do as ordered, then pull out. About daylight the wind
shifts, the tide rises and begins to wash the merchandise away. Two
'rough-necks' get busy saving their outfit, when what comes bobbing past
on the waves but a handsome zink-lined casket--the one from Nome.

"'Hey, Bill, cop that box; it'll make a swell bath-tub,' says one. So
the other pulls up his rubber boots, wades out, and brings it in. The
trader, hearing that his goods are in danger, adjourns the game long
enough to see about it. He hurries down to the beach, looks over his
stuff, then inquires:

"'Where's my coffin?'

"'You 'ain't got no more coffin than a rabbit,' says one of the miners.

"