BY SNOW-CLAD VOLCANOES 165 



some more. Well, he fined me seventy-five dollars 

 altogether, and when I was done he says, 'Now, you'll 

 have to pay that or go to jail.' 



" 'Weir, I says, 'you'll have to get it from that guy 

 there,' pointing at the fellow, 'he's got my two hundred 

 and ten dollars at the bottom of the sea.' So they was 

 taking me to jail when someone in the crowd saw I was 

 a Grand Army man and there was a lot of 'em in the 

 courtroom. They took up a collection of three hundred 

 dollars and gave it to me." 



The steward, who had hair as gray as the cook, whis- 

 pered in my ear: "That old fellow says he's been cook- 

 ing for fifty years. Ain't it a wonder he can't cook any 

 better than he does?" 



The wind still blew fair and strong. We were churn- 

 ing along with all sail set. Many birds passed us and 

 Kleinschmidt stood in the bow with a repeating shotgun 

 and a scoop net, trying to shoot them over the bow and 

 pick them up with the net. Altogether he secured only 

 one petrel and one red-legged kittiwake. I spUt a strip 

 of tanned walrus hide to make a gun sling, shaved it 

 thin and curried it with engine oil. 



We were going better than we might have expected, 

 almost ten miles an hour, and the long run of seven hun- 

 dred miles from St. Michael to Unimak Pass, at the 

 western end of the Alaska Peninsula was nearly over. 



The captain had corrected the chronometer at St. 

 Michael and had thereby accurately laid his course from 

 the last point of departiu-e, Nunivak Island, so that we 

 raised the western cape of Unimak Island at sunrise as 

 expected and drove through the Pass before a hard west 

 breeze. Another sail rounded far astern and a cannery 

 tender, the "St. Helens," overtook us — the only vessels 

 we had seen on this run. 



