“Nonsense!” cried Phil. “I hope you don’t believe in any such foolish superstition, or that a bit of carved ivory can possess the powers you claim for the fur-seal’s tooth?”
“I don’t claim it,” protested Serge. “I only repeat what the Indian said. At the same time, almost every one in Alaska, or, at any rate, every one whom I know, believes in such things, and can tell you lots of stories about them.”
“Yes. I’ve no doubt they can tell lots of stories, but the thing is to prove them. Now, I don’t believe in superstitions of any kind, and am very sorry for those who do. As for my present bad-luck, it is entirely owing to my own carelessness and hot-headedness, but for which I should be comfortably on my way to Sitka at this very minute. As it is, here I am up such a very tall stump that, as far as I can see, there isn’t the slightest chance of getting down from it inside of several weeks. My chance of visiting Alaska is knocked higher than a kite, too, for the money that would have taken me there will now have to be devoted to paying my hotel bill here.”
[CHAPTER VIII]
ONE RESULT OF GOOD SHOOTING
“Why not go with me?” suggested Serge, at the end of his meditation on Phil’s situation. “The Seamew sails for Alaska this very evening.”
“For what part of Alaska—for Sitka?” demanded Phil, eagerly.
“Not exactly,” admitted Serge; “but in that direction. She is bound on a fishing cruise to the cod and halibut banks off the Shumagin Islands; but there are always vessels running from there into Sitka, and Captain Duff has promised to set me on board the very first one of these he runs across.”