he voice of big
Ituk, as he gave out his Eskimo calls, the sleigh-bells, and the creak
of the sled runners over the frosty snow, were the only sounds heard on
the clear morning air.

The life of the captain was saved.

The sequel of his story is not long. With the best care known to a
native woman, brought up near and inside a Mission station, the captain
was tended and brought back to life, though weeks passed before he was
well. In fact, he was never strong again, and, needing a life-long
nurse, decided, with Mollie's consent, to take her for his wife, and so
the missionary married them. Then they settled permanently at Golovin
Bay, where a trading post was already established, and where they are
living happily to this day.

CHAPTER XVII.

HOW THE LONG DAYS PASSED.

On Saturday, November third, began a great sewing of fur caps,
children's clothes, and also garments for the teacher. For the caps, a
pattern had to be made before beginning, but Alma and not I did it.
About four in the afternoon Mr. H., Mr. G. and Mr. B. came in from the
Home, having worked all day at collecting driftwood as they came along,
piling it upon end so it will not be buried in the snow, for that is the
only fuel we will have this winter, and it must be gathered and hauled
by the boys.

While in the sitting room after supper three gentlemen and the wife of
one of them called to spend the evening from the A. E. Company's
establishment. One was the manager and head of the company's store here,
another was his clerk, and the man and his wife were neighbors.

We soon found out that the young clerk had been up the Koyuk River
prospecting, and wanted to go again. The boys want to go there
themselves, and we gathered considerable information from our callers
regarding the country, manner of getting there, the best route, etc.,
and spent a pleasant evening, as they seemed also to do.

Sunday, November fourth, was marked as the first time of holding church
service in the schoolhouse since our arrival, and a good number were
present. Twenty-two Eskimos and ten white people made a cozy little
audience for Mr. H. and his interpreter, Ivan. I played the organ, and
they all sang from Gospel songs. For some reason a lump would come up in
my throat when I played the old home songs that I had so many times
played under widely differing circumstances, thousands of miles away;
but under the current of sadness there was one also of thanksgiving fo