"Oh, there's no fear of that yet," said Uncle Will, reassuringly. "You see, we still get the influence of the Japanese current of the Pacific, which warms this whole coast. We shall find it colder in the interior. At the same time, we have a long distance to go, and the warm weather will be upon us all too soon. Let me see, this is the sixteenth of March. To-day I must take a sail-boat, and go over to Skagway for a sled. It's hardly possible that I can return until late to-morrow, with the best of luck." "Can we do anything to hasten matters in the mean time?" asked Mr. Bradford. "Yes," replied his brother. "To-day you and the boys might take the axes and hatchets to the cannery and have them ground. It's a great saving of time and labor to have the edged tools sharp. Long Peter will look after the camp while you are gone. And to-morrow I advise you to hire that Indian's canoe again, and take everything but the tents to the cave about three miles above here. Peter knows where it is. If the Mysterious Thirty-six are camped there, you can leave the goods a little this side and cover them with oiled canvas." Immediately after breakfast, in pursuance of these plans, the whole party except the Indian, made their way along the beach to the cannery, where Uncle Will was fortunate enough to secure the services of a boatman just arrived in his sloop from Chilkat across the harbor. The breeze was favorable, and the little vessel was presently speeding along the south shore, soon passing out of sight around the point. The grinding of the axes occupied an hour or more, after which the three walked over to the Indian village, where they were given a noisy welcome by a score of dogs. The houses were rude affairs, built of hewn boards and logs, but affording much better shelter than the wigwams which the boys had always associated with Indian life. They had seen a few wigwams near the railroad in the State of Washington, but here there were none. In attire, too, these Indians seemed to have copied the white people. Two or three women who were cooking fish outside of one of the larger houses, wore neat hoods, dresses and shoes, but others had greasy red handkerchiefs tied over their heads, and wore torn moccasins and dilapidated skirts. "I wonder," said David, "if it is true that the Indian women do all the work. I have heard so." "No," answered Mr. Bradford, "the men hunt and fish, and work for the whites on the trails, but the women do all the domestic drudgery, even to the cutting of the firewood. The men have rather the best of it, for they enjoy a variety and are idle about half the time, while the work of the women never ceases. It's a good deal the same, however, the world over. I have been in parts of Europe where the wives worked in the fields, and even dug cellars for new buildings, while their husbands, I presume, were engaged in the sterner but less wearing duties of army life. Here comes a poor old drudge now."