or his
October ordeal before the Court of Appeals.

Not long after my arrival, a good fellow named Joe Brennan, while
bringing his horses and freight up the rivers, was drowned some ten
miles below Council. It was believed that he was swimming a horse, and
that when the animal climbed the bank, Brennan fell off and, his boots
filling, drowned. When the body was recovered, a few days later, it was
brought to Council, a coroner's inquest held, and then decently buried.
Northwestern Alaska furnishes excellent graveyards, rivaling the art of
ancient Egypt. Its ground will preserve a man forever, but it is a long
way for his friends and relatives to come to see him. A small amount of
currency was found on Brennan; a poke of dust with which he was to
execute certain commissions was identified and returned to its owner;
but a considerable sum of money of his own, with which he was known to
have left Nome, was missing. Doubtless the body had been robbed. But
there are lots of good men in Alaska, although in the Nome country they
seem to be pretty well scattered. Brennan's two partners, who came to
consult us about the estate of the deceased, were such men--manly
fellows who wanted to have "poor Joe's" property rights preserved. One
of them came from Washington, my native city, with whom I could chat
about familiar landmarks; the other, who looked the athlete, had held
the New England championship for the high jump, and had trained for that
event several college men of my acquaintance. It is a well-worn phrase,
but the world _is_ very small. The Washingtonian was duly appointed
special administrator, and soon realized funds on a sale of the horses,
feed, provisions, etc., which were well within the legal definition of
"perishable property."

Enjoying the proud distinction of being notaries public for Alaska, and
being therefore quasi-judicial officers, we were frequently called upon
to take acknowledgments, affidavits, and depositions. I am not likely to
forget the work of taking an affidavit from one Joe Ripley. It was of
immediate importance in litigation at Nome, and Ripley, a squaw-man, who
lived with his Eskimo wife and children a number of miles down the
stream, had been specially engaged to come up and make affidavit to
certain matters with which he alone was familiar. As luck would have it,
my partner, who was acquainted with Ripley, had been called away to
euphonious Puckmummy Creek (Eskimo, "quick"), and it devolved u