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Updated: May 7, 2025
And when they had got it, they would have a "Blow-out" to celebrate the achievement. "We'll invite Nicholas," says the Boy. "I'll go to Pymeut myself, and let him know we are going to have 'big fire, big feed. Oh, heap big time!"
Only Muckluck in her chilly "Holy Cross clo'es" stood sorrowful and silent, swinging her medal slowly back and forth. Nicholas warned them that the Pymeut air-hole was not the only one. "No," Yagorsha called down the slope; "better no play tricks with him." He nodded towards the river as the travellers looked back. "Him no like. Him got heap plenty mouths chew you up."
Except just where he was lying, the Pymeut men and women were crowded together, on that side of the Kachime, at his head and at his feet, thick as herrings on a thwart. They all leaned forward and regarded him with a beady-eyed sympathy.
The penitents looked at each other, and telegraphed in Pymeut that after all the Boy had come up to time. The Father had refused the valuable lynx-skin and Nicholas' superior spoon, but was ready, it appeared, to look with favour on anything the Boy offered. But very seriously the priest turned round upon the Pymeuts. "I will just say a word to you before we wash and go in to supper."
That they did not cover more ground that first day was a pure chance, not likely to recur, due to an unavoidable loss of time at Pymeut. Knowing the fascination that place exercised over his companion, the Colonel called a halt about seven miles off from the Big Chimney, that they might quickly despatch a little cold luncheon they carried in their pockets, and push on without a break till supper.
The opposite door opened and a man appeared, with Nicholas and his father close behind, looking anything but cast down or decently penitential. "How do you do?" The white man's English had a strong French accent. He shook hands with great cordiality. "We have heard of you from Father Wills also. These Pymeut friends of ours say you have something to tell me."
Had he brought it on that last long journey of his to Russian America, and left it to his Pymeut children with his bones? Well, Yukon Inua should not have it yet. The Boy thrust the medal into a pocket of his chaparejos, and crawled into his snow-covered bed. "Raise the stone, and ye shall find me; cleave the wood, and there am I."
"Sister Winifred say: 'Always tell Father Brachet; then everything all right," contributed Muckluck. "You tell Pymeut belly solly," the old Chief said. "Nicholas know he not able tell all like white man," Muckluck continued. "Nicholas say you good hey? you good?" "Well a pretty tollable, thank you." "You go with Nicholas; you make Father Brachet unnerstan' forgive.
He nodded his grey head significantly, but he went on with the bare evidence: "When John J. Healy make last trip down this fall Nicholas pilot you savvy they let him take his sister, Holy Cross to Pymeut. I see she wear this round neck." The weight of the medal carried the raw-hide necklace slipping through his fingers.
You come Pymeut me show." "Where have ye been just now?" asked O'Flynn. "St. Michael." "How long since ye left there?" "Twelve sleeps." "He means thirteen days." Nicholas nodded. "They couldn't possibly walk that far in " "Oh yes," says the Boy; "they don't follow the windings of the river, they cut across the portage, you know." "Snow come no trail big mountains all get lost."
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