While these two were off on their mining tour, Bessie managed, with the help of a cane and Mr. Selborne’s arm, to walk slowly along the main street of Juneau. There were a number of fur stores, and others with beautiful displays of Chilkat blankets and baskets, the latter in many odd varieties of shape and color.
Native women sat in groups, with their wares spread out on the sidewalk before them; baskets, carvings, silver bracelets, and a queer kind of orange-colored fruit which the visitors found were the famous “salmon berries” of Alaska.
Rossiter bought a silver spoon, finely carved, with some sort of a bird’s-head design.
“What kind of a bird is it?” asked the minister.
The Alaskan shook his head, to show he did not understand.
“What kind?” asked Rossiter again, very slowly, and a little more loudly, as one is apt to speak, in trying to converse with a foreigner.
The native seemed now to gather the meaning of the question, but was at a loss to express himself in reply.
Suddenly with a quick smile he flapped his arms like wings, and cried “Caw! caw!”
“Ah,” exclaimed Selborne, “it’s a raven!” and the vendor nodded his head violently, much gratified at the success of his pantomime.
Next morning the sole topic was, How soon will they return? Have they found any game? Won’t they be tired!