The Journal of a Sporting Nomad 
in order to return to Seattle. By a coincidence 
it happened that these were some of those whom 
I had helped to pack their lumber some months 
previously on my arrival in the country. Hear- 
ing that I was in trouble, they came along im- 
mediately, and it was almost worth the disaster 
to experience the kindness one and all showered 
on me. 
The wind had dropped by noon, and it was 
now possible to launch a boat, with which 
Matson and some of these men visited the 
schooner. They found her a total wreck, the 
hatches burst off, and the hold full of water. 
They managed to bring back with them all my 
gear of every description, and at once set to 
work to save what they could. The fur, hides, 
and skins were handed over to the Indians, who 
after thoroughly washing each pelt in fresh 
water to take out the salt and mud, dried them 
again. The white men spent the whole day 
in taking my gun, rifle, and revolver to pieces, 
washing the parts, then drying and vaselining 
them, so that my loss in the end was practi- 
cally nothing, with the exception of my camera, 
which was ruined and some photograph plates, 
about twenty-four dozen of which I had ex- 
posed, and had rolled up in several layers of 
red flannel. The wet had stuck the edges of 
these plates together, making them into one 
solid lump. A young man in the party, by the 
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