HE last week of May has finally come, and with it real spring weather. The children play out in the sand heap on the south side of the house for hours together, enjoying the warm sunshine and pleasant air, the little girl clothed from head to foot in furs. Never has a springtime been so welcome to me, perhaps because in striking contrast to the long, cold winter through which we have just passed. From the hillside behind the Mission, the snow is slowly disappearing, first from the most exposed spots and rocks, the gullies keeping their drifts and ice longer. Mosses are everywhere peeping cheerfully up at me in all their tints of gorgeous green, some that I found recently being tipped with the daintiest of little red cups. This, with other treasures, I brought in my basket to Jennie when I returned from my daily walk upon the hill, and together we studied them closely under the magnifying glass.

To examine the treasures brought in by Mollie, however, we needed no glass. They are sand-pipers, ptarmigan, squirrels, and occasionally a wild goose, shot, perhaps, in the act of flying over the hunter's head, as these birds are now often seen and heard going north. In the evening I see from my window the neighboring Eskimo children playing with their sleds, and sometimes they light a bonfire, shouting and chattering in their own unique way. All "mushers" now travel at night when the trail is frozen, as it is too soft in the daytime, and the glare of the sun often causes snow-blindness. Then, too, there is water on the ice in places, which we are glad to see, and pools of the same are standing around the Mission and schoolhouse. I can no longer go out in my muckluks, but must wear my long rubber boots and short skirts.

Today I went out for an hour, walking to Chinik Creek over the tundra, from which the snow has almost disappeared, and returned by the hill-top path. The tundra was beautiful with mosses, birds were singing, and the rushing and roaring of the creek waters fairly made my head swim, they were such unusual sounds. The water was cutting a channel in the sands where it empties into the bay. Here it was flowing over the ice, helping to loosen the edge and allow it to drift out to sea.

There is little change in the manners and dispositions of the rough men in camp. There are the same things with which to contend day after day, the same annoyances and trials to endure, with new ones in addition quite frequently.

June has come at last, and all the world should be happy, but, alas, there is always some worm in the bud to do the blasting. This morning about three o'clock I was wakened by the sound of drunken voices outside my window, followed by stones hurled against the side of the house. Quickly rising, I cautiously peeped out from behind the curtain, but was not surprised at what I saw. There, about a hundred feet away, were four men, all well known to me as members of the gang, and all in the most advanced stages of intoxication. On the step of a neighboring cabin sat the murderer, Ford, hugging in a maudlin way a big black bottle.

On the ground, in the dirt, there rolled two young men, the Englishman underneath, and Big Bub over him. Sim, the leader, had aimed four stones at my window, but missed it, and felt the need of more stimulant, so he took the bottle from Ford, carried it to the lumber pile, a few feet away, sat down, put it to his lips and drank heavily. Again and again he tipped up the bottle while he drank, but finally threw it away empty. Then, with much exertion, he stooped to pick up a stone.

He was aiming at my window. I dodged into a corner, but the box washstand stood partly in my way. Would he hit his mark? I did not believe it. He was too drunk. Crack! came the stone against the house.

I waited. Another followed. In the meantime the other men had paid no attention to him, as Ford was watching the two tumblers, the lumber pile being between them and Sim; and the three started for the front door around the south side of the house. Sim followed them. I now hoped he would forget his stone throwing. When they were all out of sight I breathed more freely. Surely now the trouble was over, I thought, and I threw off my fur coat which I had hastily pulled on over my wrapper, crept into bed and covered my head with the blankets.

I now thought quickly. Even if Sim should forget to throw more stones, would he not soon come upstairs and perhaps give me more trouble? Would it not be better to dress myself and be prepared for any emergency? I was hurriedly deliberating upon the matter—my head still covered with the blankets—when there was a loud crash and shivered glass covered the floor and the bed clothes. Instantly throwing the latter back, I looked around me. I could see no stone, and I had heard none fall upon the floor, but it must be there somewhere.

I now stepped carefully out of bed, in order to avoid the glass, my feet being already in knit, wool slippers, with thick, warm soles—and again looked out.

There was no one to be seen. Sim had done his dastardly work, and gone indoors. Would this end it? My teeth shattered, and I felt cold. I must keep my nerve, however, and I did so, dressing myself carefully even to my stout shoes which I laced up in front and tied. Then I drew on my fur coat and sat down to wait.

Below the four men were poking around in the kitchen, trying to find something to eat or drink. It was not long before I heard them coming upstairs, and all tumbled into the next room, which was occupied by Ford.

If they came to molest me further there was yet one way of escape which I would try before using my revolver. The weapon I did not want to use unless driven to it. There was the staging outside my window which had never been removed since the house was built, the year before. I could very easily step out upon it, and walk to the end of the house, but then I must either jump or remain, for there was no ladder. This staging was, perhaps, twenty feet from the ground, and the latter frozen. To slide down a post would tear my hands fearfully.

I had not long to wait. To go peaceably to bed seemed to be the last thing these men thought of, and one picked up a gun, which, for hunting purposes, every man in the house kept close at hand.

"I zay, now, Bub, put up zat gun. Zis ain't no place for shootin'," drawled a thick, sleepy voice which I recognized instantly.

"Shut yer gab! Who's hurtin' you?" answered Bub, the biggest of the four, and one of the ugliest when intoxicated.

"Mrs. Sullivan's in the next room. You wouldn't shoot her, would you?" asked Sim sneeringly in a loud tone, for he could stand up under great quantities of liquor.

"Sh! Keep still a minute, you fool!" in a harsh whisper from Bub.

I was now thankful that I was dressed. I waited no longer. Opening the door I ran down stairs to Mollie and the captain, knocking loudly upon their door.

"Hang those brutes!" exclaimed the captain angrily, when I had finished telling him what had happened. "What is the matter with them, any way?"

"Whiskey," said I. "They are all as drunk as pirates."

"Show me your room and window," demanded the captain, who by this time had gotten into some of his clothing, and stepped into the living room where I was.

I then led the way upstairs, and threw open my door. What a sight! Broken glass covered the floor and bed, the cool morning air pouring in through the broken pane of which there was little left in the sash.

That was enough for the captain. He made straight for the next room, where all was now perfectly still, only Ford remaining in it, the others having had sense enough to sneak off to their own places, after hearing me run down stairs to report.

Seizing my blankets I closed and locked the door and made my way down stairs to Mollie. Above we could hear the captain's voice in angry altercation with the men, they denying everything, of course, even the stone throwing, with the window as evidence against them. It was half-past four and I had slept little. There was no fire in the house, and I was cold; so, throwing down a few skins in a corner of the sewing-room, with my blankets upon them, I covered myself to get warm.

At last the house was once more quiet, and I slept for an hour, only to meet black and angry looks from the men all day, accompanied by threats and curses, though I said nothing to them. I picked up the stone from my reindeer rug, where it had fallen after shattering the window pane, and it lay only two feet from my head. It was about the size of an egg.

Of course it is impossible for me to leave Chinik, as the winter trails are broken up, the ice has not left the bay, and no steamers can enter; so we are practically prisoners. O, how I long to get away from this terrible place! Never since I came to Chinik have I given these men one cross word, and yet they hate me with a bitter, jealous hatred, such as I have never before seen. Some weeks ago I pinned a slip of paper into my Bible, upon which I have written the address of my parents, in case anything should happen to me. O, to be once more safe at home with them! God grant that I may be before many months shall have passed.

A splendid warm, bright day, June thirteenth, the most of which the children and I have spent upon the sandy beach in front of the hotel. Little Jennie lies and plays on the warm, dry sand, though, of course, she does not stand on her feet nor walk. Other small Eskimos come to play with them, for Charlie is always on hand for a play spell on the sand, and I doze and read under my umbrella in the meantime, with an eye always upon them. They make sand pies, native igloos, and many imaginary things and places, but more than any other thing is my mind upon the coming of the steamers, when I hope to get away.

Mollie came in last night from a seal hunt upon the ice, and she, with the three native boys, secured a white seal, and eight others, but did not bring all with them. There is a great deal of water on the ice at this time, and none but natives like to travel upon it. Ducks and geese are flying northward in flocks above our heads, and we feast daily upon them. They are very large and tasty, and the cook knows well how to serve them.

We now see a line of blue water out beyond the ice, and even distinguish white breakers in the distance. Today I took a field glass, and climbing the hill behind the Mission to look as far out as possible, strained my eyes to see a steamer. As I stood upon the point to get a better view, the whole world around seemed waking from a long, long sleep.

At my left was Chinik Creek, pouring its rushing waters out over the bay ice with a cheerful, rapid roaring. Farther away south stretched the Darby Cape into blue water which looked like indigo, surmounted by long rolling breakers with combs of white, all being fully fourteen miles away. To the northwest of the sand-spit upon which Chinik is built, and which cuts Golovin Bay almost in two, the Fish River is also emptying itself, as is Keechawik Creek and other smaller streams. Over all the welcome sunshine is flooded, warming the buds and roots on the hillside, and making all beautiful.

June seventeenth: This is Bunker Hill Day in New England, and the men have been celebrating on their own account, setting off a fifty pounds box of dynamite in the neighborhood to frighten the women, I suppose. The shock was terrific, breaking windows, lamp shades, and jarring bottles and other articles off the shelves. Jennie was dreadfully frightened, and screamed for a few minutes, while the living room soon filled with men inquiring the cause of the explosion. By and by a man came in saying that another box of giant powder would be set off, but with that the Marshal left the room with a determined face, and we heard no more dynamiting. The men, as usual, were intoxicated.

I have just had a pleasant little outing at the Home, going with Mollie, who invited me to go with her. She was going out seal hunting on the ice, would leave me at the Home for a short visit, and pick me up on her return. Ageetuk and grandmother would take good care of Jennie for so short a time, and I needed the change, so I ran up to my room, threw some things hastily into a small bag to take with me, locked my trunk, (I had long ago put a package consisting of papers and diaries into the safe in the kind storekeeper's care), dressed myself in my shortest skirts and longest rubber boots, and we started. The weather was too warm for furs in sunshine, or while running behind a sled, so I wore a thick jacket, black straw hat with thick veil, and kid gloves.

We left the hotel about half-past seven o'clock in the evening, but with the sun still high and warm. Mollie had her small sled and three dogs, with Muky and Punni Churah and their guns. The other sled was a large one, and to it were hitched seven good dogs, accompanied by Ituk and Koki. Upon the sleds were furs, guns, bags and fishing tackle. Along shore there was considerable water on the ice, in a few spots the latter had disappeared, and we could see the sandy beach, but farther east the ice was firmer, and Mollie, who made for the best looking places, led the way, I running closely in her footsteps.

Behind us came the men and teams, the calls of the Eskimos to their dogs sounding musically on the quiet evening air. Mollie and I were now leaping over water-filled cracks or lanes in the ice, she having assured me that after getting away from the shore it would be better traveling, and we could ride on the sleds when we were tired, but I felt considerable pride in keeping up with her, and soon grew very warm from the stiff exercise, unaccustomed as I was, while she was well used to it.

After we had left the shore some distance behind us we halted for the sleds to come up, Mollie seating herself upon the small one, I waiting for the other a little later. There I ran at the handle-bars for a time, but at last I threw myself upon the sled among the furs, and pulled a parkie over me. We were now in the water a foot deep most of the time, the dogs picking their way along over the narrowest water lanes, Ituk and Koki shouting to them to gee and haw, and with Eskimo calls and whip-snapping, urging them on continually.

Soon we left the smaller sled behind; Mollie, Muky and Punni making the air ring with laughter and Eskimo songs. As we started out from home the sun shone brightly upon us, but as we left the land at our backs, and made our way farther out upon the bay, the sun dropped lower and lower, the sky became a mass of crimson and yellow, and the whole world seemed modestly blushing.

Along the east shore the rolling hills lay almost bare of snow, the brown tundra appearing softly and most artistically colored. To the north the mountains were still tipped with snow, as was also the promontory—Cape Darby, at the extreme southeast point. This was spotted and streaked with white, its rocky cliff black in shadow by contrast. Our eyes eagerly scanned the horizon for steamers, and a schooner had been reported off Darby loaded with fresh fruits and vegetables, but we could not see it.

By and by we were past most of the water lanes, and the ice was better. At half-past nine o'clock in the evening the sky was exceedingly grand, and a song of gratitude welled up in my heart, for this was another world from the one we had just left, and I no longer wondered at Mollie's love of hunting in the fresh air, under the beautiful skies, and with her freedom to travel wherever she liked.

With her I felt perfectly safe. No harm could come to me when Mollie led the way, and my confidence in the native men was equally strong; for were they not as familiar with ice and water as with land? I soon saw that we were headed toward the island, though I did not know why, and by this time Mollie was far ahead, also that we were being followed by a dog-team from Chinik, which puzzled me, for I had not heard that others were going out hunting for seal, or starting for the Home, which was my destination.

When we reached the north end of the small island Mollie ran up the path like a deer, I following, as did the natives, leaving the dogs to rest upon the ice. From a hole in the rocks Koki now hauled his kyak or small skin boat, where he had left it from a former trip, and dragging it down upon the ice, he lashed it upon the small sled to be carried still farther.

The dog-team, which I had seen following in the distance, had now come up with us, and I heard one man say to the other: "There is Mrs. Sullivan," but I did not recognize the voice. When they came nearer, we found it to be two men from camp who were going out to the schooners to buy fruit and vegetables, and they wanted to get a dog belonging to them which Mollie had borrowed and had hitched into her team. A change of dogs was then made, and we started—Mollie and I on her big sled, the other two following.

We now skirted the rocky cliffs, and found the ice hummocky between great, deep cracks where the water was no longer white, but dark and forbidding. Sometimes Koki suddenly started the dogs to one side to avoid dark-looking holes in the ice, the dogs leaping over seams which quickly lay beneath us as the fore and hinder parts of our sled bridged the crevasse of ugly water.

Now the sled swayed from side to side as the dogs made sudden curves or dashes, then a big hummock of ice and snow had to be crossed, and one end of the sled went up while the other went down. I was holding to the side rails with both hands, and knowing that the sled was a good, strong one, I had no fear of its breaking, but my feet were cold in my rubber boots, and I had drawn some furs over me.

Mollie is not a great talker, she seldom explains anything, and one has only to wait and see the outcome of her movements, and this I did, when she suddenly with Ituk left the sleds and climbed the rocks of the island again on the south side. Then I saw them gathering sticks and small driftwood, and knew that they would make a fire upon the ice at midnight, while preparing to hunt for seals.

Coming to a rough place, with high-piled ice between great, ugly seams over which the sagacious dogs dragged the sleds always in a straight line, not slantwise, I climbed out, and Mollie and Ituk came with their driftwood, which they threw upon the sled; the two men making for the schooner forging ahead in the direction of Cape Darby.

Ituk and Muky now made ready to go with me to the Home, a half mile away to the east where they were also to get some bread, this important item having been forgotten in the hurry of departure from Chinik. In the meantime Mollie, not to lose a moment of time, as is her method, had gotten out her fishing tackle and was already fishing for tom-cod through a hole in the ice. Bidding her Beoqua (good-bye), we started for the Home, Ituk politely taking my little bag, and Muky leaping lightly over the rocks toward the mainland. Along the shore of the island I was fearful of cutting my boots on the jagged rocks and rubble thickly strewn over the sands, and had to proceed cautiously for a time, but Ituk, perceiving my difficulty, led to a smoother path, and we were soon on the mainland, and upon the soft tundra, when it was only a few minutes walk to the Home.

It was eleven o'clock in the evening, and we found the missionaries just returned from a trip to the schooner, where they had secured fresh potatoes and onions. The smell and taste of an onion was never so good to me before, and the potatoes were the first we had seen in six months.

I had been in the Home in the early spring for a day, and now, as then, met with a warm welcome from the missionaries. They now had double the number of native children they had in Chinik, and their house is large and commodious, though unfinished.

I was assigned the velvet couch upon which I had spent a good many nights, and the two natives returned to Mollie after securing some bread from Miss E. for their lunches.

Next day we visited, and I rested considerably, finding again how good it was to be in a safe and quiet place with no fear of stone throwers or giant powder.

About half-past ten o'clock in the evening, just after the sun had set, we started on our return trip, Mollie having arrived with her dog-teams and natives. The sunset sky was exceedingly beautiful, but beneath our feet we had only very bad ice and water. Near the island great ice cakes were floating, interspersed with dark seams and lanes wider than we had before seen. Sometimes I rode on one of the sleds or walked, ran or leaped over the water holes to keep up with the rest until too tired and heated, when I threw myself upon a sled again; but as we proceeded we found firmer ice and less water. Mollie and I had both to ride upon one sled now, for Ituk had lashed the kyak upon the little one, and they were one dog short, as an animal had run away while they were eating supper at the Home. Finally, pitying the dogs upon the large sled, who seemed to have a heavy load (although only one seal, as they had met with little success in hunting), I motioned to Ituk to wait for me, which he did.

"Ituk," I called, as I came nearer, "let me ride in the kyak, will you?"

"You ride in kyak?" asked the man in surprise.

"Yes, let me get in, I will hold on tight," and, as he made no objection, I climbed upon the boat, crept into the hole made for that purpose and sat down.

"All right, Ituk; I am ready," I said.

The man laughed, cracked his whip, and the dogs started.

I had not before realized that I would be sitting so high up, and that at each dip in a crack or depression of the ice, when the sled runner ran a little higher than the other, I should stand a grand chance of being spilled into the water, but my feet were so cold in my rubber boots that I was thinking to get them under cover would be agreeable, and though Ituk probably well knew what the outcome of my ride would be, he very patiently agreed to allow me to try it.

We had not gone far when our dogs made a sudden dash or turn, the right-hand runner slipped lengthwise into a seam, and over we went, sled, kyak, woman and all upon the ice in a sorry heap. The dogs halted instantly, and Ituk, who had been running on the left-hand side of them, came back at my call.

"O, Ituk, come here and help me! I cannot get out of the kyak," I cried lustily. "I will not get into it again," and I rubbed my wrist upon which the skin had been slightly bruised, and he assisted me to my feet.

The native laughed.

"Kyak no good—riding—heap better run," he said.

"That's so, Ituk, but my feet are very cold."

"Get warm quick—you running," was his reply, and we started on again.

When five or six miles from Chinik the water became more troublesome, and our progress was slow. We were wading through holes, leaping over seams, and treading through slush and water. It was colder than the night before, a thin skin of ice was forming, but not firm enough to hold one up. I was cold and cuddled into the sled with Mollie, but the two natives running alongside were continually sitting upon the rail to get a short ride instead of walking, thus loading the sled too heavily upon one side, and we were soon all tumbled into water a foot deep.

As I went over I threw out my arm to save myself, and my sleeve was soaked through in an instant. Koki and Muky thought it great fun, and laughed and shouted in glee, but to me it was a little too serious. My clothes were wet through on my right side, and I was now obliged to run whether I wanted to do so or not, for we were fully a mile from home. My gloves and handkerchief were soaked with water, and I threw them away, thrusting my hands into my jacket pockets and running to keep up with the others.

We were now wading and leaping across frequent lanes, and were more in the water than upon the ice. The sharp eyes of the natives had discerned the shore line well bordered by open water, and they were wondering how they would get across. Finally we could get no farther, and were a hundred feet from the beach.

"Dogs can swim," said Mollie, sententiously, as was her habit.

"How will you and I get on shore, Mollie?" I asked anxiously.

"Ituk, big man,—he carry you, may be," answered Mollie, roguishly, with a twinkle.

"But," I continued seriously, "how deep is the water, anyway, Koki?" seeing that he had been wading in to find out.

"Him not much deep. We walk all right,—'bout up here," and the native placed his hand half way between his knee and thigh to show the depth, then walking a little farther down towards the hotel he seemed to find a better place, and called for all to follow, which we did.

The men waded across to the shore, stepping upon stones which now and then, at this point, were embedded in the sand, Mollie boldly following their example. All wore high-skin boots, coming far above their knees, and water-tight, but my rubber-boots had never been put to a test like this, only coming a little above my knees, where the soft tops were confined by a drawstring, and this water was very cold, as I had good reason to know.

However, there was nothing to do but go on, first watching the others, and then plunging boldly in. I drew my boot-tops higher, fastened the strings securely, picked up my short skirts and wound them closely about me, but not in a manner to impede my progress, and stepped in.

By this time the dogs and men were upon the sands, and making for home, only a few rods away, but I took my time, walking slowly in order that the water should not slop over the tops of my boots, and we finally reached the beach and the house safely.