148 FOUR YEARS IN THE WHITE NORTH [Mar. 



The trip from Peteravik to Borup Lodge on Friday, 

 March, 19th, driving fourteen dogs in the pink of con- 

 dition, was, to say the least, exhilarating. In spite of 

 the fact that my sledge was loaded heavily with walrus 

 meat, the dogs went out of Peteravik like a whirlwind, 

 and up the coast as if the evil spirit of the North were 

 behind them. 



A beautiful day on the Crystal Palace Glacier — ^too 

 good! What did it mean? I was soon to learn. My 

 dogs, reaching the summit of the divide, leaped into 

 their traces for a record run down to the sea. Having 

 broken my whip, I yelled, pleaded, coaxed, and even 

 whistled for them to stop. When about to slow down, 

 my white bitch, snapped her trace and was off, with 

 her big bushy tail waving good-by! Now there was 

 no stopping the team. Clinging to the upstanders, braced 

 back to the limit, with my feet firmly planted between 

 the runners as a brake, we skimmed the surface, pitched 

 down the sharp slope leading to the trough between 

 the glacier and the cliff, and landed in a deep hole on a 

 pile of rocks. Wearily and somewhat battered, I re- 

 gained my feet and glared at the dogs innocently licking 

 their feet. Then came a distant roar, the sound of 

 E-took-a-shoo's voice, and a swish, as leaping dogs, 

 sledge, and a stocky form barely missed the hole and 

 shot down the valley. A fine day on the glacier! 



A cutting wind and drift at the Crystal Palace Cliffs 

 frosted the face of every man. The dogs, however, were 

 in such fine condition that they did not need much 

 urging, and kept the trail so admirably that we turned 

 our backs and yielded to their guidance. 



Ekblaw and his six Eskimos finally got away at nine 

 o'clock on March £4th. At six o'clock the party re- 



