CHAPTER IX.
NOME.
HE man who had predicted that we would find no comforts in Nome proved himself a true prophet. There were none. Crowded, dirty, disorderly, full of saloons and gambling houses, with a few fourth-class restaurants and one or two mediocre hotels, we found the new mining camp a typical one in every respect. Prices were sky high. One even paid for a drink of water. Having our newly found Alaska appetites with us, we at once, upon landing, made our way to an eating house, the best to be found.
Here a cup of poor tea, a plate of thin soup and questionable meat stew with bread were served us upon nicked china, soiled table linen and with blackened steel knives and forks, for the enormous sum of one dollar a head; which so dumbfounded us that we paid it without a murmur, backed out the door and blankly gazed into each other's faces.
"Such prices will ruin us!" gasped the madam.
"That table linen! Ugh!" shuddered the young man.
"Fifteen cents in California for such a meal!" growled the English girl in her matter-of-fact way, and with wide distended eyes; while I found such amusement in watching the three faces before me that I barely found breath to remind them of the two tons of nice things in their own packing cases at the landing.