“There he is!” shouted John; “he’s waving to us, over there ’midships.”
“He’s got something under his arm,” said Rob, judicially.
A tall, brown-faced man with a wide, white hat and loose gray clothing edged his way toward the head of the gangway. Catching sight of the boys, he called out a hearty greeting.
“Have you got it, Uncle Dick?” asked John, excitedly, as at last the latter reached the dock.
Uncle Dick’s answer was to pass to his nephew a certain long package, which proved to be a fine rifle in a leather case. For the moment all three boys were so much engaged in examining this that they paid little attention to what was going on—hurry and confusion, shouting and laughing and excited talk, mingled with the creak of the hoists and the rattle of the donkey-engine as the ship’s men now began the work of discharging the cargo of the Yucatan. It must be remembered that in Alaska few things are manufactured, and everything must be shipped in, fifteen hundred miles or more, from San Francisco, Seattle, and other points.
“Well, young gentlemen,” said Uncle Dick, at last, “you seem gladder to see that gun than you are to see me.”
“No, we’re not, sir,” rejoined Rob; “but we’re pleased enough, even so, because now each of us has a rifle.”
“And no place to use one,” answered Uncle Dick.