In the native gutturals Tom consulted the old Indian, and then answered, "Fifty cents apiece." This being a reasonable price, as prices run in that country, the bargain was closed. As the boys were without rubber boots and several small channels separated them from the canoes on the main stream, the Indians readily agreed to carry them on their backs to the point of embarkation. Once in the village, David and Roly looked about them with interest. Most of the houses had been erected by the Russians and straggled in an irregular line along a narrow foot-path, facing the river. Tom Williams with his wife and family occupied one of the neatest of these dwellings, and his name appeared prominently painted near the door. Children and dogs swarmed everywhere. "There's your African dodger, Roly," said David, as they approached the curious totem figure which had attracted their attention in March. "We must have a picture of that." The next instant the click of the shutter in the camera announced that the prize was secure. A little farther on, an Indian whose black hair was sprinkled with gray was sitting on his doorstep. As they approached, he beckoned and made signs that they might enter the house,--an invitation which they gladly accepted, since they were curious to see something of the home life of these natives upon whom civilization had thrust at least its outward form. The large living-room into which they were ushered had a bare wooden floor and contained several chairs, a good stove, a chest of drawers, and a table at which two women, dressed in gingham, were sewing. One was evidently the wife of the host, and the other, a plump girl of about fourteen, his daughter. They looked up as the boys entered, but said nothing, and indeed no member of the family seemed able to talk much English. Ancient chromos of various subjects hung upon the walls, and David discovered a curious brass plate, about four inches square, bearing a figure of Saint Peter in relief with a large halo around his head. This would be an excellent memento of Klukwan, he thought, so turning to the Indian and pointing to Saint Peter he asked, "How much?" The Indian understood this simple phrase, consulted his wife and daughter, and answered, "Four dollars." This was more than David cared to pay; and as the owners did not seem very desirous of parting with their patron saint, he pressed the matter no further. The incident appeared to remind the Indian that he had another interesting treasure. Going to the chest of drawers, he took out a large, time-stained document and spread it before them. It was printed in Russian, but David easily made out that it was a certificate of their host's membership in the Greek Church,--the national Church of Russia. It contained his name, which was utterly unpronounceable, and at the bottom appeared the signature of the Bishop at Sitka.