Saturday, December twenty-second: This is the middle shortest day of winter, and a fine one, too, though we had not more than three and a half hours daylight. The skies are beautiful, with many bright colors blended in a most wonderful way.
The girls are hard at work cooking for Christmas, and while the boys were all away today and we needed wood brought into the house, I rigged myself in rag-time costume and fetched several loads in my arms. How the girls laughed when they saw me, and declared they would fetch the kodak, but I ran away again.
This afternoon M. and the other man returned from their little trip, looking bright and happy over having staked some claims for themselves and us not very far away. These are our first claims staked, and we naturally feel more than usually set up, though the men say of course there may be nothing of value in them.
When I went to give Jennie her lesson I heard her father and another man talking of a party of five persons who have been taken out to sea on the ice, near Topkok. They started about three days ago from here, and one was the sick woman who has been at the hotel, all on their way to Nome by dog-team.
There were two women and three men, two dog-teams and sleds. They were crossing the ice between two points of land while upon the winter trail to Nome, the wind had loosened the ice, and when they tried to get upon shore again they found it impossible, and they were blown directly out to sea. Without food or shelter, and with the nights as cold as they are, how can they live on the ice at sea? Some men have arrived bringing the news, and say that two men went out in a boat to their rescue, but broke their oars, the ice closed in on them, they were soaked through, and were obliged to use their best efforts to save themselves.
The following night was very cold, and all think the unfortunates must have perished. What a terrible fate, and one that may happen to any one traveling in this country, though it does seem as if this ice should soon freeze solidly.
Sunday, December twenty-third: Soon after breakfast today a man came to our door asking for iodine, or remedies for a dog bite. A mad dog had rushed upon a man sleeping in a tent in the night and bitten him quite severely upon the hands and leg. Mary and I put on our furs immediately and started out with the man, who piloted us into a small saloon, where the poor fellow sat by the stove with a white and pinched face.
Several other men were standing about, after having done all they could for the injured man, but Mary washed the torn flesh in strong carbolic acid water, and tied it up in sterilized bandages, for which he seemed very thankful.
The little saloon was neat and clean, containing a big stove, six or eight bunks across the back end, and a long table, upon which were spread tin plates, cups and spoons. A short bar ran along one side by the door. The men said that the mad dog had been shot immediately after the accident, but there were others around in the camp, they feared.
I could easily see that the injured man was badly frightened as to the after-effects of the dog bite, and both Mary and I did all in our power to suggest away his fear, knowing well that this was as harmful as the injury. I told him that the missionary, Mr. H., had had a great deal of experience with such accidents, but never yet had seen a person thus bitten suffer from hydrophobia, which appeared to comfort him greatly.