1915] TO RENSSELAER HARBOR 147 



dogs and burn their sledges. Pihlochto (a form of rabies) 

 was in the pack, and the dogs were dying every day. 

 There were also rumors of another strange disease 

 lately arrived from South Greenland, with which the 

 dogs sickened, "became weak and emaciated, staggered, 

 and did not get up again." 



All the Eskimos agreed that this was the hardest 

 year they had ever known. I saw my own plans and 

 hopes dwindling to nothing. All now depended upon 

 Tanquary and his new dogs, plodding northward from 

 Upernavik. 



By the 16th Ekblaw's dogs were in splendid shape, 

 full of life, jumping and tugging at their hitching- 

 straps, which they had not left from the time of my 

 arrival. Ak-pood-a-shah-o got away for Etah with a 

 load of meat and a note to Ek, telling him to expect 

 me in a few days. 



The cold weather had broken. The temperature had 

 risen to twenty-three below zero. On the floor of our 

 snow house it stood at just zero; at the level of my head 

 when seated upon the bed platform it was fifty-three 

 above, a temperature which was made possible through 

 the skin lining of the house that retained the heat and 

 shed all drip. 



On Thursday, March 18th, at six in the morning, 

 there was a "Hello, Mac!" at the window. Tanquary 

 had come at last — but with badly frosted feet. He was 

 optimistic, as usual, declaring that he would be all 

 right in ten days. One glance, however, at the frozen 

 toes convinced me that he was through for a while. 

 He followed my advice and left at once for Etah, in 

 company with three Eskimos, where he could avail 

 himself of the services of Doctor Hunt. 



