232 FOUR YEARS IN THE WHITE NORTH [Mar. 



valley, the old Eskimo migration pass of centuries 



ago. 



A strong northeast wind, heavy drift, and eighteen 

 below had no effect whatever upon the cheerful spirits 

 of my men. The snow blocks were quickly cut from a 

 sloping bank amid laughter, jest, and banter. E-took- 

 a-shoo was at his best as he skilfully molded block after 

 block into place. A slice off the end to bevel it, a glitter 

 of the knife beneath to shape it, a thump with the heel 

 of the hand to set it, and presto! — a palace. ^'Tima- 

 Jcee-zar ("All through — ^finished!") is the happy call 

 from the inside of the white dome at the end of the day. 

 And now for real comfort! The dogs are fed and se- 

 curely fastened for the night; the sledges are unpacked; 

 all the skins are whipped and beaten thoroughly with the 

 snow-beater, a constant and indispensable companion. 



Ice is always secured for our tea, if possible; other- 

 wise, clean snow will answer the purpose. The snow 

 bed is buried deep with furs, on top of which are placed 

 four light caribou sleeping-bags. The comfort and cozi- 

 ness of an eleven-pound caribou bag! At fifty -five be- 

 low zero, I have stripped naked and plunged into one 

 of these bags, where I have found warmth and com- 

 fort. The Primus stove is lighted, the door is blocked, 

 and the day's discomforts are forgotten. 



The 29th was spent in sledging our loads to the back 

 of the Ellesmere Land ice-cap in the face of a heavy 

 wind and drift, which helped us, however, on the return, 

 fairly blowing us down into camp from the edge of the 

 glacier, the dogs racing back with empty sledges. 



To my surprise, at five in the morning there was a 

 strange voice at the door, which we soon recognized as 

 that of Ak-pood-a-shah-o. He had reached Etah two 



