I was indignant, but everybody of whom Mollie inquired denied knowing anything of it, and I said very little. Going to my trunk afterwards, I found that the lock had been picked and broken,—a pretty severe "joke," and one I do not relish, as now I have no place in which to keep anything from these men. If they enter my room whenever they choose in the daytime, what is to prevent them when I am asleep? I took Mollie upstairs and showed her the broken lock, and she stooped to brush some white hairs from her dark wool skirt.
"Where they come from?" she asked suddenly. Then, picking at the reindeer skin upon the floor under her feet, she said, nodding her head decidedly, "I know. He—Sim—come to me in sewing-room,—hair all same this on two knees of blank pants. I say, 'Where you get white reindeer hair on you, Sim?' He say, 'I don't know.' Sim make hole in wall, and string on bed for you, Mrs. Sullivan. He make lock peeluk, too," and Mollie's face wore a serious and worried expression.
"O, well, Mollie," said I, "don't worry. I shall say nothing to any of the men as they are mad at me now."
Mollie nodded significantly and said: "Your fox skins peeluk, Mrs. Sullivan. Sim knows where—he never tell—sell for whiskey, maybe," and Mollie turned to go, as though he were a hopeless case, and beyond her government.
"Yes, Mollie, I think so; but you can not help what these bad men do. I know that, and do not blame you."
"My husband very sorry 'bout fox skins. He cannot find—he no blame," and she seemed to fear that I would attach some blame to the captain.
"No, indeed, Mollie, I don't think your husband can help what they do. I should not have left my fox skins hanging in that room, and will be careful in future, but if they come into my room they may steal other things, and I do not like it."
"I know, I know,—Sim no good—Joe no good—Bub no good," and she went away in a very depressed state of mind to Jennie and Apuk's baby.
Of course Mollie told all to the captain, who immediately accused the men in the bar-room, and they all swore vengeance upon me from that on, so I suppose they will do all they can to torment me.
We are having a sensation in Chinik. The "bloomin' Commissioner" is about to be deposed from office, for unfitness, neglect of duty, and dissipation; and a petition is being handed around the camp by the Marshal, praying the Nome authorities that he be retained. The honest storekeeper refused to sign it, as have many of the Swedes. The Commissioner swears by all that is good and great to quit drinking, and be decent. Time will tell—but I have no faith in him.