"It seems wilder over here," said John. "Look how rough the mountains seem and how thick the timber is on above there. And I don't see any barabbara over here." "There's something that looks like one, back from the beach a little way," said Jesse, pointing out what seemed like a low heap of earth. They went over and found it to be, indeed, the ruins of an old barabbara, which looked as though it had not been occupied for a lifetime. The roof had fallen in and the walls were full of holes, so that it was quite unfit for occupancy. They left it and passed up the beach, where they saw the ruins of several other houses, no doubt occupied by natives very long ago. Beyond this a short distance, not far from a deep path which was worn in the tundra by the wild game, they saw a number of rude posts standing at different angles, loosely embedded in the soil, and in some instances fallen and rotting in the grass. Some of these had rude cross-arms at their tops, others two cross-arms, the lower one nailed up at a slant. The boys regarded these curiously, but Skookie seemed anxious to move on. "Why, what's up, Skookie? What's the matter?" asked Rob. "What do these posts mean, that look like crosses?" "Dead mans here--plenty, plenty dead mans, long time," said Skookie. "No mans live here now. I'm not like dis place." "Why," said Rob, "they're graves, and these are crosses--I think that one with the double arms must be one of the old Russian crosses. Was there ever a village here, Skookie?" The Aleut lad nodded his head. "Long times, my peoples live here some day. Russian mans come here, plenty big boats; plenty shoot my peoples. Dose Russian mans make church here, show my peoples about church. Bime-by Russian mans go way. Bime-by my peoples get sick, plenty sick; all die, all dead mans here. My peoples go way, never come back no more. I'm not like dis place." He shuddered as he looked at the grave posts, and was eager to go on. "That must have been seventy-five years ago," commented Rob. "Perhaps small-pox killed off the villagers who built this little town. See, the wind and the weather have polished these posts until they are white as silver. Well, I don't know but I'm ready to go on myself."