The Journal of a Sporting Nomad 



back he gave up the obnoxious habit altogether. 

 I was now one step nearer my ambition. I soon 

 discovered that Hunter was not a " blow-hard," 

 and that I could depend upon what he told me. 

 He was living at Kenai, a small village situated 

 on a river of that name, seven or eight miles 

 farther up the inlet. Here he had a wooden 

 shack he had built for himself, and to which 

 he now invited me, pending the making of our 

 arrangements. Accordingly the next day, after 

 saying good-bye to Mr. Wetherbee, we rowed 

 the boat that this gentleman had lent me to 

 this other river. 



Now, the Indians in this locality are very 

 devout members of the Greek Church. They 

 are looked after by a Russian priest, who 

 keeps them very much up to the mark. One 

 of the principal feasts of the year was shortly 

 to be observed, and both Hunter and I found 

 it quite impossible to persuade any of the 

 Indians to accompany us into the mountains 

 until after they had observed the proper keep- 

 ing of this time. We had over a month to 

 wait, therefore we decided to cross the inlet 

 and hunt for bears on the mainland in the neigh- 

 bourhood of Snug Harbour. We were helped 

 in our trip there by the captain of one of the 

 Kusiloff Cannery tug-boats, who was going over 

 to the depot ship with a load of cased salmon, 

 and who offered us a lift. We took our boat on 



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