LET US GO AFIELD 



towing us ahead and both wind and tide fortunately 

 astern, we managed to get her down the coast and 

 landed on the shingled shores of a mountain-girt 

 arm of the sea known as Kaludiak Bay.' There 

 the schooner left us, the wind and tide both having 

 changed and started the other way, by good for- 

 tune, else she would be there yet. 



At last we were alone ! It was the first week in 

 June. In two weeks the hides would begin to go 

 bad. Rather short shrift for us, after nearly two 

 months of preparation and travel. It was wet, and 

 our tent, designed for man-back transportation and 

 not for schooner travel, was small. We hunted up 

 a deserted native hut, or barrabara as it is called, 

 a low-walled, earthen-roofed affair, where the fire 

 is built on the ground in the center and the smoke 

 never does get out. We put fresh grass on the floor, 

 fumigated it, and installed our stock of goods there 

 as headquarters. Then I took a walk along the 

 coast. The first thing I saw was a path, one made 

 by human feet! 



"Kuroki," said I, "why and whence this path?" 



"Ah," said Kuroki, "my peoples make it. Plenty 

 time they come here to hunt and fish." 



"And do you suppose for a minute bears are going 

 to come here, too?" I asked him coldly. 



"I dunno," said Kuroki, standing on one foot. 

 214 



