Work as never before. Decide to utilize the rare opportunity to the limit, and to take the whole skeletons, not merely the skulls, leaving only the few fresher ones and those that are badly damaged. A great Sunday; burial after burial; opening the wooden grave--taking out and marking on the spot bone after bone--fighting mosquitoes all the while--and packing temporarily in any convenient receptacle. Fortunately there are quite a few boxes and pails and oil cans on the spot, left by the dredge people and the few natives who evidently sometimes come to the place. At about 2 eat lunch--coffee (the Eskimo put what was for three cups into about two quarts of water, so there is but a suggestion of coffee), raw smoked fish for me and eggs with bacon (left over from breakfast) for my companion, and on again until about 5 p. m. or a little later. Last two or three hours, however, work with some difficulty. A gnat bit me in an eyelid, or got into my eye, and that has now swollen so that I can hardly see with it. My Eskimo, however, is about all I could wish. He just looks at me working in a matter-of-fact way, and carries the filled boxes, or looks around for something I could take with me, and even helps on a few occasions with the bones, finding evidently the whole proceeding quite right and natural. Brings me, among other things, an old copper teakettle, but to his wonder I do not want it and leave it. I find a fine large walrus-ivory doll and a handsome decorated "kantág" (wooden bowl), besides smaller objects, and also a large piece of a poor quality clay pot (no pottery now), with a fragment of a decorated border as on the lower Yukon. Pack up, we load on the boat--lucky now she is so spacious--get into the shallow river--the tide has run out--push the boat out and start for home. Thus far we had but slight drizzles. But the clouds now grow heavier, and as we have much farther to row than this morning, due to the low water, we are caught by showers. The last mile or so we have to hurry, see a big rain approaching. My man pushes her with a pole while I row all I can, with both hands, with the heavy oar. Of course the whole population of Kotlik has to see our arrival. And more, too, for in our absence a schooner came in with wood and a number of the natives. They talk, but no one is either angry or excited. We two carry the boxes, pails, etc.--grass covered--into the house; how lucky I am now alone. Inside I remove the wet grass from them--the bones, too, are somewhat wet--then pay my Eskimo $5, which again is taken as a matter-of-fact thing, without thanks, but he well deserved the amount, even if I rowed a full half.