Finally everything was ready. All passengers had left the ship. The lighter was crowded to the last inch of space; baggage and freight along the sides, and passengers in the middle, sitting wherever they could find a box or bag upon which to sit. A tug boat made fast to the lighter--we said good-bye to the "St. Paul" and moved away. "We are bidding good-bye to all comforts now!" exclaimed an old Nomeite dubiously, "for we won't find any on shore; leastwise not unless it has improved more in the last ten months than I think it has. It was a tough place enough last summer, and that's no josh either!" looking around him at the ladies of the party and evidently wondering what they would think of the celebrated mining town. Many by this time looked sober, but it was not a hard camp that they feared. They had expected to find a typical camp with all the attendant evils usual in such a place, and now they were almost there. In fact they looked out over the heaps of baggage towards shore at the long fine of white tents, buildings of every description from a board shack to a hotel or large store, and it seemed good in their eyes--very good. For some unseen reason, as the barge, following as it did at the end of the long line from the tug, rode first upon the top of a big breaker and then below in the trough, there was a decided longing on the part of some to be on land. It did not much matter where it was--Europe, Asia, Africa or "any old place"; but as for this "confounded, zig-zaggin', heavin' old hulk which is tryin' its best to take us to Honolulu sideways--I want no more of it!" growled one man. "Give me Nome or I die!" gasped another. "No more big water in mine for two years, and mebbe by that time they will have air ships to fly in," muttered a little man as he lay on his back among a pile of bags and gulped at something in his throat he was trying to keep down. So the barge bobbed up and down among the breakers, riding to the crest of a wave with a gliding, graceful motion, only to reach out beyond it, and then, as the waters underneath receded, dropping heavily with a thud and a splash, making one feel that he was being dealt with most unceremoniously. The same thing was again and again repeated, until we rode as close to the shore as the tug could take us, then the line was cut, a rope was thrown us from shore, and with a steam windlass or other contrivance, we were hauled upon the sands. Then a gangplank was speedily pushed out over the intervening watery space which the passengers took their turns in crossing until all stood upon the beach; a few, to be sure, with wet feet, damp clothing and soggy tempers if some vicious, big breaker in parting had dashed its white foam-tipped waters over their heads, but all glad and thankful to arrive in Nome at last. CHAPTER IX. NOME.