1916] BACK ACROSS ELLESMERE LAND 253 



by a seemingly unimportant incident — a snow-bunting 

 flying over our sledges. No one can ever appreciate our 

 emotions as we watched that wavering flight and heard 

 that glad song — a welcome message from southern 

 lands, an announcement that the world still lives, that 

 we are not forgotten, that the whiteness of the big hills 

 will soon darken into beds of beautiful flowers, that the 

 valley snows will quickly change to running waters, that 

 the air will again resound with the whirring of wings 

 and the laughter of happy Eskimo children, that our 

 cracked, frost-bitten faces will feel once more the safe 

 touch of warm southern winds. Your bluebird of spring 

 is but dry prose in comparison with kop-a-noo (snow- 

 bird), a beautiful poem. 



Twenty miles due east in my running survey, and 

 still no game. A bear track only, and this could not 

 be eaten. The party must be divided. Arklio and 

 E-took-a-shoo would cross to Cape Southwest of Axel 

 Heiberg Land, and, if successful in their hunting, put 

 meat in cache for the return of Noo-ka-ping-wa and my- 

 self from the southern shore of the island a few days 

 later. That night our two sleeping-bags seemed very 

 small on the large, wide, white bed. I missed the boys 

 and was sorry to have them go. 



It was not until two-thirty of the 29th that we were 

 ready for bed. "If it takes E-took-a-shoo, Arklio, and 

 Noo-ka-ping-wa one hour to build a snow house, and 

 E-took-a-shoo works one and one-half faster than Ark- 

 lio, and Arklio one-third as fast as Noo-ka-ping-wa, how 

 long will it take Noo-ka-ping-wa.?" I queried to myself, 

 as I sawed out the snow blocks and tried to recall the 

 algebra of my school-days. And I answered to myself: 

 "I don't give a rap. No school to-morrow." 



