1 64 BIG GAME SHOOTING IN ALASKA chap. 



A good story, illustrating the undefeated powers of a first- 

 class Alaskan narrator, came to me at Sand Point, but not 

 feeling certain as to its originality I repeat it with some 

 hesitation and apologies to the original inventor of the yarn. 

 Two local skippers of some small fishing vessels, who were 

 both notorious for talking big, were present one evening in 

 the local store. One champion was holding forth to an 

 admiring crowd on the subject of mosquitoes. 



" Yes, gentlemen, those darned mosquitoes are pretty 

 thick round about this neighbourhood. Why, not long ago 

 we was lying off the shore and was just hoisting sails on my 

 schooner. We got up the mainsail and foresail, and was 

 just fixing up the topsail when by comes a cloud of them 

 mosquitoes and carries the topsail clean away." 



A look of admiration crossed the face of skipper No. 2 ; 

 but, without turning a hair, he addressed the speaker, saying, 

 " Pardon me, captain, but could you say near about where, and 

 what date that happened ? " 



Nothing daunted, the other promptly replied, " Wal, I 

 should say we were 55° N. by 162° W. near about noon on 

 June 27." Whereupon skipper No. 2 nobly rose to the 

 occasion, and turning to the audience remarked, " Say, now, 

 gents, that's right down queer, but I guess I can corroborate 

 this gentleman's statement. On the very date in question 

 I was laying off the coast about twenty-five miles to leeward 

 of that identical spot, and a cloud of mosquitoes passed my 

 schooner about 2 p.m., and every one of the darned brutes had 

 on a canvas jacket." 



Although a fairly good raconteur myself, it is heart- 

 breaking to run up against such men as these, for, as the 

 Americans say, they make one " feel tired," since they are 

 capable of soaring to the most lofty pitches of imagination on 



