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Updated: October 14, 2025
But not with the intrepid spirit that shoved off with us from the deck of the Arcturion. A bold deed done from impulse, for the time carries few or no misgivings along with it. But forced upon you, its terrors stare you in the face. So now. I had pushed from the Arcturion with a stout heart; but quitting the sinking Parki, my heart sunk with her.
He was holding up the smaller of the two parkis. "You no like?" "Oh, very nice." "You no buy?" "You go sleep on trail," said Nicholas, rising briskly. "You die, no parki." The Boy laughed and shook his head, but still Ol' Chief held out the deer-skin shirt, and caressed the wolf-fringe of the hood. "Him cheap." "How cheap?" "Twenty-fi' dollah." "Don't know as I call that cheap."
Deliberating a moment, I directed the muskets to be loaded; then setting the sail the wind on our quarter we headed away for the canoe, now sailing at right angles with our previous course. Here it must be mentioned, that from the various gay cloths and other things provided for barter by the captain of the Parki, I had very strikingly improved my costume; making it free, flowing, and eastern.
Only a little crown on her high-rolled hair, and her splendid chest all uncovered to the Arctic cold. Her Yukon subjects must have wondered that she wore no parki this lady who had claimed sole right to all the finest sables found in her new American dominions.
"Yes," said Nicholas. "St. Michael, him fifty dollah." The Boy looked doubtful. "I saw a parki there at the A. C. Store about like this for twenty." "A. C. parki, peeluck," Nicholas said contemptuously. Then patting the one his father held out, "You wear him fifty winter." "Lord forbid! Anyhow, I've only got about twenty dollars' worth of tobacco and stuff along with me."
They were near the Little Cabin now. "Here!" shouted the Boy; "and ... yes, here again!" And so it was. Clean and neatly printed in the last light snowfall showed the little footprints. "We're on the right trail now. Kaviak!" Through his parki the Boy felt a hand close vise-like on his shoulder, and a voice, not like MacCann's: "Goin' straight down to the fish-trap hole!"
Besides, all that by day was necessary to navigating the Parki was, that somebody should stand at the helm; the craft being so small, and the grating, whereon the steersman stood, so elevated, that he commanded a view far beyond the bowsprit; thus keeping Argus eyes on the sea, as he steered us along. In all other respects we left the brigantine to the guardianship of the gentle winds.
Potts lifted a stiff, uncertain hand, and, with a groan, let it fall heavily on his own cheek. "Come on; I'll help you in, anyhow, Potts." "Can't walk in this damned wet fur." With some difficulty having dragged off Potts' soaked parki, already stiffening unmanageably, the Boy tried to get him on his feet. "Once you're in the cabin you're all right."
And such, in substance, was the first, second, third and fourth acts of the Parki drama. The fifth and last, including several scenes, now follows. Though abounding in details full of the savor of reality, Samoa's narrative did not at first appear altogether satisfactory. Not that it was so strange; for stranger recitals I had heard.
They are the padded over-coat of coarse cloth or light skins, the valinka of felt or the long boot of fur, the parki a fur great coat without front opening and with head-covering attached, and the heavy knitted or fur mitten. In several of the views shown in this volume these different articles of dress may be seen, some of them on the heads, backs, hands and feet of the American soldiers.
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