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 



280 



