The Salt Lake herald. [volume] (Salt Lake City [Utah]) 1870-1909, 1907-10-20

The Mission house at Togiak stands
forlornly on a wind-swept Alaskan spit,
While huddled around it a swarm of
dirt-cOvered "igloos" grovel in an &C.
stasy of abasement.
Many natives crawled out of these
and started across the bay as down a
gully came an Arctic caravan, men and
dogs, black against the deadly white
ness. Ahead swung the guide, strad-
ding awkWardly on his five-foOt webs,
while the straining pack battered at
his heels. Big George, the driver, urged
them with strong words, idioms of the
northland. and his long whip bit sharp
~ at their legs.
His companion. ciinging to the sled,
stumbled now and then. while his face.
splitting from the snap of the frost,
was smothered in a muffler. Sometimes
he fell. plunging into the snow, rising
painfully and grooming with the misery
of blindness.
Most there now, Cap; keep up your
grit"
I'm all right" answered the afflict-
ed man, YEARLY. Don't mind me-"
George. too had suffered from the
sheen of the unbroken Whiteness, and
while his eyes had not wholly closed,
he saw but dimly. His cheeks were
grease-smeared, and blackened with
charred wood TO break the snow-glare.
but through his mask showed signs of
suffering. while his blood-shot eyes
dripped sealding tears and throbbed
distressfullY- For days he had not
dared to lose sight of the guide Once
he had caught him snealIing the dogs
away. and he feared he had killed the
N a To
ahead, his sullen. swollen features bale
fui in their injury.
Down the steep bank they slid. across
the bumped up sea ice at the river
mouth and into the village
AT the greeting of their guide to his
tribesman. George started. Twelve
years of coast life had taught him the
dialect from Point Barrow south, and
he glanced at Captain TO find whether
he. too. had heard the message. AS
Jaska handed a talisman to the chief
he strobe to him and snatched it.
"Oho, It's Father Orloff. is it? D.
him. He gaZed at the token. a white
spruce chip with strange marks and
carvings.
What does it mean. George?" said
the blind man.
It's a long story. Charlie. and black
You should have known it before we
started. I'm a marked man i'm this
coast country. It's Orloff's work, the
renegade. Father he calls himself
Father to these devils he rules and robs
for himself i'm the name of the church
His hate is bitter, and he'd have my
life II these watery ivered ours didn't
dread the sound of my voice. God help
him when we meet
He shook his hairy claws at the hos
tile circle, then cried TO the chief in
the native tongue:
"Oh, Shaman! We come bleeding and
weary. Hunger grips us and our bones
are stiff with frost. The light is gone
from my brothers eyes and we are
sick. Open you the door TO the Mission
house that the 'Minoks' may rest aad
grow strong"
The Indians clustered before the por-
tai, with its rude cross above, and
stared Indignantly while the chief
spoke. AT the name of his enemy the
unsightly eyes of George cleaned, and
he growled CONTEMPORARY, advancing
among them. They scattered at the
manner of his coming, and he struck
the padlocked door till IL ratified stifrlv.
Then spying the cross overhead he
lifted up and gripped the wood. II
came away ripping. and with-waiIs of
rage and horror at the sacrilege. thew
closed about him.
Here. Cap! Bust her in, quickr' He
dragged Captain before the entrance.
thrusting the weapon upon him, then
ran ferociously among the people. He
snatched them to him. cutting like a
bear and trampling them into the
snow Those who came into the reach
of his knotty arms crumpled up and
twisted under his feet He whirled
into the group. roaring hoarsely, his
angry, grease blackened face hideous
with rage. The aboriginal is not fight
ing machine; for him the side-step and
counter have no being. They melted
ahead of his blazing wrath. and he
whisked them, fleeing. by their gar
ments, so that they felt the stamp of
his moccasined heels.
Captain dragged the team within and
George following, blocked the shattered
door.
Were safe as long as We stay in
the church." said he.
Right of sanctuary, eh? Does IL oc-
cur to you how we're going 10 get
out?
Never mind, we'll get out some
how" said he. And that night, as
Charlie Captain. late university man
and. engineer, lay with eyes hwathed in
steaming cloths the whaler spoke
operosely and with the bitterness of
gre at wrong.
vt happened when we rocked the
bars of Forty Mile. before ever a
Chechako had crossed the Chilcoot. /