He told me of his cabin building, his winter's stores and fuel, and seemed in high spirits. Of course I could not ask him what he meant by "big money," or what he had taken from his claim, although it would not here, as in the Klondyke, be a breach of etiquette to inquire. After a few minutes chat the man bade us good-bye, and descended to the small boat alongside, which was to carry him and his freight ashore.
It was nearly dark by this time, and another night must be passed on board. Some were complaining of the cold. Others were shuffling their feet to get them warm.
"My feet are awfully cold," said Alma, moving them uneasily about. "Aren't yours, Mrs. Sullivan?"
"Not at all," I replied, trying to look unconcerned, at the same time putting my feet further under my skirts, which were not the very short ones I had worn at Nome. "You know what having cold feet in this country means, I suppose, Alma?"
"O, I am not in the least homesick, if that is what you mean. I am perfectly happy; but—" (here she glanced down upon the floor in the direction of my feet) "what have you over your shoes, any way, to keep so warm, Mrs. Sullivan?"
There was no help for it, and the muckluks had to come to light, and did. At sight of them they all shouted, and Alma laughed till the tears ran down her cheeks.
"And you have had these on all day without our seeing them? Where have you kept your feet, in your pocket?" she persisted.
"Well, no, not exactly, but of course, under the circumstances, you could hardly expect me to hang a signboard out to call attention to them, could you?" I laughed.
"I should say not. Will we all look like that in muckluks? Is there nothing else we can wear this winter? They will make our feet look so awfully large, you see?"
"That's the way we will all look, only a good deal worse, for some of us have no skirts to cover them with, as you have," spoke up Mr. G. for the first time.