The Journal of a Sporting Nomad 
wet blotting-paper than any other simile I can 
suggest. 
It seems these people had never tried a cold 
water plunge after the bath before I showed 
them how to manage it. On this occasion the hut 
was built all by itself at a spot where the Kenai 
River issues from the lake. The Indians were in 
the habit of having a hot bath when they paid 
their rare visits to this district. I pitched my 
camp alongside after my six days’ hard work 
ascending this river, and as my Indians had 
heated the house preparatory to having a bath 
themselves, I decided to go first. The experience 
was similar to that already described, except that 
on emerging I at once ran down and plunged into 
the icy cold river. The boys thought I had gone 
mad, I think, for their faces were a study ; but I 
persuaded Elia and Shanghai, two of the three 
boys I then had with me, to experience the plunge. 
Probably it has now caught on and become 
a practice, due, I flatter myself, to my initiative. 
In any case it was an innovation that would do 
them more good than harm, forafteremerging from 
such a furnace the probabilities were they stood 
about in the cold and caught dangerous chills. 
The end to our waiting on “‘ Prasnic”’ at length 
arrived, and so did a Russian bishop of sorts, 
whose diocese must embrace many hundreds of 
miles of coast-line. He arrived in a boat and was 
received by our padre. All the Indians who 
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