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Curwood, James Oliver, 1879-1927

"The Alaskan"


At first he thought the sound was the popping of guns, but in a moment
he knew it could not be so, and the truth flashed suddenly upon him.
This day was the Fourth of July, and someone in the cottonwoods was
shooting firecrackers!
A smile softened his lips. He recalled Keok's mischievous habit of
lighting a whole bunch at one time, for which apparent wastefulness
Nawadlook never failed to scold her. They had prepared for his
home-coming with a celebration, and Tautuk and Amuk Toolik had probably
imported a supply of "bing-bangs" from Allakakat or Tanana. The
oppressive weight inside him lifted, and the smile remained on his lips.
And then as if commanded by a voice, his eyes turned to the dead
cottonwood stub which had sentineled the little oasis of trees for many
years. At the very crest of it, floating bravely in the breeze that came
with the evening sun, was an American flag!
He laughed softly. These were the people who loved him, who thought of
him, who wanted him back. His heart beat faster, stirred by the old
happiness, and he drew himself quickly into a strip of willows that grew
almost up to the cottonwoods. He would surprise them! He would walk
suddenly in among them, unseen and unheard. That was the sort of thing
that would amaze and delight them.
He came to the first of the trees and concealed himself carefully.


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