At the water's edge small pieces of ice washed up and down with a clicking sound upon the sands, as if to give us notice of approaching winter, but the ocean was almost as smooth as a floor. No breath of wind disturbed the surface, and only a gentle swell came landward at intervals to remind us of its still mighty, though hidden, power. Then we were all in readiness to leave. A little boat was drawn upon the sand. Into it all small baggage was tossed. It was then pushed out farther by men in high rubber boots standing in the water. "I cannot get into the boat," laughed Little Alma, "I will get my feet wet." "Not if I can help it," answered a stalwart sailor, who immediately picked her up bodily and set her down in the boat, repeating the operation three times, in spite of the screams and laughter of Miss L., Ricka and myself. Ricka and I were only of medium height, but Miss L. was a good six-footer, and when we were safely in the boat, and she had been picked up in the sailor's strong arms, if she did not scream for herself, some of us did it for her, thinking she would certainly go head first into the water; but no, she was carefully placed, like the rest of us, in the boat. After getting settled, and the final good-byes were waved, the men sprang in, those on shore pushed the boat off; we were again on the bosom of old Behring Sea. Smaller and fainter grew all forms upon the shore. Darker and deeper grew the waters beneath us. The lights of a few belated steamers, twinkled in the distance, their reflections, beautiful as jewels, quietly fixed upon the placid waters. Like a thing of sense, it seemed to me, the great ocean, full of turmoil, rage, and fury so recently, it would show us, before we left, how lamblike, upon occasions, it could be; and all old scores against it were then and there forgotten. A dark form soon lay just before us. "Where is the 'Elk,'" I asked of a sailor rowing, looking about in the gathering darkness which had rapidly fallen. [Illustration: CLAIM NUMBER FOUR, ANVIL CREEK, NOME.] "There it is," pointing to a black hulk which lay sullenly, without a spark of light visible, close to us. "But do they not know we are coming? Have they no light on board? How can we get upon deck?" we asked anxiously. "O, they will bring a lantern, I guess," laughed the sailor, then thinking to put us at our ease, he called lustily as he rested himself at his oars. Not getting a reply, he shouted again. Presently two men appeared with as many lanterns. "Here, you fellows, get a move on, and help these ladies on board, will you? Were you asleep, hey?" "Wall, no, not 'zactly, sah, but I'se done been working hard today," it was the colored cook replying, as he rubbed his sleepy eyes. "Haul up alongside this dory," said the other man as he put his lantern down, "and let the ladies get into that first, then we'll help 'em up here."