18 FOUR YEARS IN THE WHITE NORTH [Aug. 



creasing rapidly. In 1909 the total population of these 

 northern shores numbered 218; in 1917, 261. 



Four kayaks shot out from the shore. We scrutinized 

 closely the face of each occupant in hopes of recogniz- 

 ing an acquaintance of the last Peary Expedition of 

 four years before. All Eskimos dress alike and wear 

 the hair long, so that their identity is almost indis- 

 tinguishable at a distance. We often recognize a man 

 by the shape of his kayak, no two of which are exactly 

 alike 



"Look at the girls!" exclaimed the crew for'ard, who 

 had interpreted the long, flowing hair of the men as 

 proof of the opposite sex. The "girls," clothed in seal- 

 skin coats and bearskin pants, grinned and nodded in 

 response to the salutations of the coal-stained line of 

 faces of the firemen at the rail; they appeared highly 

 complimented at the recognition. 



One face looked familiar. Yes, it was faithful old 

 Kai-o-ta, my traveling companion on the Polar Sea 

 and to the northern point of Greenland in 1909; the 

 same Kai-o-ta, to whom Charlie, the cook, gave the 

 tabasco sauce when he greedily extended his mouth for 

 maple syrup! His oleaginous coat of dirt cracked in 

 divers directions upon our mutual recognition. The 

 voluble fuzzy center of a group of highly entertained 

 white men, he informed me of the whereabouts of the 

 boys whom I wanted as dog-drivers and general assist- 

 ants — the boys who had been waiting now for four 

 years upon my promise to return and lead them far 

 west to a new land. 



Two of the best men were twenty miles south. We 

 immediately turned back and attempted to penetrate 

 the big field of ice lying close to Bushnell Island. A 



