She talked rapidly and eagerly upon every subject save the one in which we were so interested. At last, I could endure the suspense no longer.
"And how," asked I, "about the wicked saloon-keeper?"
A dull flush mounted to her very glasses. For a full minute there was silence. Then said she, slowly and stiffly:—
"How about what wicked saloon-keeper?"
"Why, the one you told us about last year; who had a poor abused wife and seven children, and who scared the life out of every missionary who came here."
There was another silence.
"Oh," said she then, coldly. "Well, he was rather hard to get along with at first, but his—er—hum—wife died about three months ago, and he has—er—hum" (the words seemed to stick in her throat) "asked me—he—asked me, you know, to" (she giggled suddenly) "marry him, you know.
"I don't know as I will, though," she added, hastily, turning very red, as we stood staring at her, absolutely speechless.
The village of Afognak is located at the southwestern end of Litnik Bay. It is divided into two distinct settlements, the most southerly of which has a population of about one hundred and fifty white and half-breed people. A high, grassy bluff, named Graveyard Point, separates this part of the village from that to the northward, which is entirely a native settlement of probably fifty persons.