The Trail of a Sourdough: Life in AlaskaSullivan, May Kellogg
History
The Trail of a Sourdough: Life in Alaska
Sullivan, May Kellogg
Alaska -- Fiction
The young man's name was Shismakoff, and he had proven himself not only
kindly and generous, but self-sacrificing and noble. Along with these
good and somewhat unusual qualities, he possessed more than average good
looks and abundant patience. He it was who now in the hospital
faithfully attended Michaelovitz, as was his habit.
This young man had been told but little of the family history of his
friend, only knowing that his wife was dead and that a daughter lived
upon the Aleutians with her aunt.
This much he knew upon landing. At sight of Eyllen's bright eyes and
rosy cheeks the young man's heart fluttered. She was good to look upon.
Without commenting upon it even to himself he immediately proceeded to
take, as compensation for attentions to her sick father, such keen
enjoyment in her presence as only those long isolated can know in the
society of ladies. Not that he forgot his manliness. For that the young
man was too sensible; but he simply drank in every word uttered by the
young girl, as a thirsty traveler would drink fresh water in a parched
and burning desert.
The girl, herself, was unconstrained. Probably in this lay her greatest
attraction. She had other hopes and interests, and they were centered in
her father's recovery, and in her rocks a few miles away on the
hillside.
Eyllen did not immediately relate her adventures to her father. He must
recover his health before she disclosed her secret. To this end she now
bent all her energies. A basket was traded to a neighbor for fowls in
order that he might have nourishing broths, and her fishing tackle was
brought into play to furnish the freshest of fish from the bay.
With attendants like Eyllen and Shismakoff, who could long remain upon a
sick bed? Especially on these beautiful green islands in spring-time?
Greatest of all grasses were those growing before the doors, and
brightest of all blossoms were those plucked by the hands of Eyllen.
Sweet was the fragrance of iris and violets, and lupins grew straight
stalked and fearless. Lilies, too, appeared later, and all crowded the
windows of the invalid whose heart was gladdened, softened, and
refreshed by their sweet and silent influence.
At her basket work Eyllen sat daily for hours with her father, until he
was strong enough to walk to her relative's cabin. Of course it was only
to be expected that Shismakoff would accompany them. Upon one side of
the convalescent he furnished support, while Eyllen assisted on the
other.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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