OUT OF THE FRYING-PAN. 
99 
The meal dragged rather slowly, though it was helped 
somewhat by Hugh's contribution. The mosquitoes were 
now reinforced by a kind of small black fly, much like 
those of the Rangeley Lakes and Adirondacks, and their 
attacks became so determined that the voyagers were 
glad to be on the move once more. 
After an hour's progress, the light rafts of the Ayans 
began to forge ahead. One by one they disappeared 
beyond a bend of the river, until the larger craft was left 
to itself. 
" It's a temptation," said Robert, reflectively, eymg 
the morose chieftain, " to give this old chap a good 
ducking in the river, and leave him to shift for himself." 
" Don't disturb him in any way," cautioned his father, 
earnestly. " Our safety lies in his friendliness toward 
us. We are much outnumbered, and so far from our 
friends that if our whole party were massacred, no one 
outside the tribe would know of it." 
Joe, the guide, was plainly of his employer's opinion, 
for he took from his pocket a small piece of tobacco, and 
offered it to the chief. 
Loklok seized it eagerly, and popped the precious mor- 
sel into his mouth, as if to make sure of it. There are 
no two commodities, Joe knew, so dear to an Alaskan 
native as tobacco and tea. 
It was of no use to ask an explanation of the sudden 
disappearance of the Ayans, for " The Bear " could not 
understand a word of English. The far-off bend in the 
