158 FOUR YEARS IN THE WHITE NORTH [May 



fresh bear track off Cape Kent. For two hours we fol- 

 lowed this closely as it crossed and crisscrossed from 

 berg to berg and from crack to crack. Finally, a great 

 yellowish-white body was sighted a half-mile away, 

 plodding through the snow from one berg to another in 

 search of seals. Within a few minutes he stopped, 

 lifted his nose, sniffed the air, and was away toward 

 the south with a long, easy lope. Yell as we would, 

 shout as we could, not an inch was gained for some 

 time. Arklio and Ah-now-ka, realizing that we might 

 possibly lose our quarry, finally slipped all their dogs, 

 which now galloped along the trail with traces flying. 

 Yelling at my dogs, '^ Nan-nook-suah! Nan-nook-suah!" 

 snapping out the long whip, with one man riding on my 

 sledge, and two running, we at length made our way 

 through a mass of rough ice to discover a large, beautiful 

 male bear surrounded by the leaping black bodies of 

 the dogs as they rushed in, nipped, and jumped to 

 one side to avoid the glistening white teeth and the 

 swish of those powerful forelegs. It was evident that 

 not a dog in the pack wanted to come to close quarters 

 with this formidable-looking animal; in fact, we met 

 some returning along the trail. 



Slipping the remainder of the dogs, we closed in with 

 the camera and with the rifles. One dog, encouraged by 

 my presence, shot in a bit too close. The slowly wagging 

 head whipped around like a steel spring. He grabbed 

 the dog by the top of the head, whirled him around 

 like a pinwheel, and slammed him down on the ice, a 

 misshapen mass. "That dog is dead," I said to my- 

 self, winding the film for a new exposure, but within 

 a few minutes the victim was a hundred yards away 

 with a determined "I am going home" look on his face. 



