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Show 120 gold pansy with honey bees swarming above, attached by long delicate wires. We hung it from the rafters above the table, like a chandelier. The next morning we would sleep late and begin our Sunday routine: drink the tea, read the Bible, and tell jokes. Later on we added guitar music. There were days that were too cold to work in the shaft. Almost too cold to breathe. They were like Sundays, except we cleaned the cabin and cooked extra pots of beans. We nut the beans outside in our icebox-two wooden crates nailed to a birch tree. On regular days we could chop off a chunk of beans and heat them quickly in a frying pan. We also had a good supply of frozen blueberries that we had picked during the fall. It was on one of these cold days that Tip found the guitar. "Whose guitar?" she exclaimed, pulling it out from under Caribou' s bunk, "Who's snooping?" Caribou shouted. He was watching the beans boil. "I wouldn't call it snooping in a little house like this," Tip said. "More-bumping into things." "Can you play it?" I asked. "No," Caribou said sharply. "Put it back." "But if you packed it all the way over Chilkoot Pass and down the river-"Tip persisted-"you must know how to play it." |