62 TWO DIANAS IN ALASKA 



of his pay was a stolid individual of no brains or 

 acumen whatever. We called him the hunted instead 

 of the hunter because he always contrived to be some- 

 where else when wanted. The son of an Aleut 

 mother and a Russian father, the blend did not seem 

 altogether successful. When we first met he was 

 practically a man of two words, and those two most 

 aggressive, if expressive. "Oh, hell!" he said 

 when anything good or bad happened. There is 

 nothing in a swear-word really, if you come to ana- 

 lyze, but this particular word was not " ben trovato." 

 It grated, and worried us. One day I heard Cecily 

 who sat beside Steve on a fallen log ask our hench- 

 man if he would like to learn a better safety-valve. 



" ' O-badiah ' is a much more expressive thing to say 

 than ' Oh, hell,' Steve," she said persuasively. " And 

 quite as easy. Try it. Say it after me. O-badiah." 



" O-badiah " practised Steve diligently, and ever 

 afterwards he used the joyful find, and we had much 

 ado not to laugh at it. Purists will say that O-badiah 

 said viciously enough is just as shocking as any 

 cuss-word. Perhaps it is. But it didn't grate on 

 our sensibilities so much, and that was the main 

 point. 



Ned, a more general factotum, was a pure Aleut, 

 and all the knowledge of fish-craft, sea-craft, and 

 forest-craft was his by right of birth. His stature 

 was infinitesimal but his strength amazing. His voice 

 came from the depths somewhere, and clanked with 

 the sepulchral ring of footsteps going down a stone 

 entry. His lightest whisper conjured up church- 



