284 FOUR YEARS IN THE WHITE NORTH [Mar. 



grounds far to the west in Eureka Sound. They had 

 nothing on their sledges but a few gallons of oil and 

 several pieces of frozen meat— real explorers! Born in 

 Greenland, they were now going back over the old 

 migration trail of their ancestors of centuries ago. How 

 they do like to travel, see new lands and strange 



things. 



An incident in the crossing of Smith Sound the follow- 

 ing day is an illustration of what often happens in Arctic 

 work. We were about five miles from land and headed 

 for Victoria Head when I halted my team to untangle 

 the traces, a rather disagreeable task and one which it 

 is necessary to perform about every hour or so, according 

 to the condition of the ice. Arklio was about fifty yards 

 in advance, and Ak-pood-a-shah-o not that distance in 

 the rear. As I gathered the traces to ring them to the 

 bridle, a gust of wind and a flurry of snow caused me 

 to look up — my men were out of sight! Within a few 

 minutes it was a blizzard; the drift so blinding that 

 I could scarcely see the tails of my dogs. Urging them 

 to greater speed and running behind the sledge, I en- 

 deavored to overtake my men. At the end of fifteen 

 minutes, it was clearly evident that I had lost the trail 

 and had passed my party, whether north or south I 

 did not know. 



Setting a course by the wind, I headed south for the 

 open water which is always present between Littleton 

 Island and Cape Sabine, intending to follow its edge 

 west on the thin ice, as the quickest and most direct 

 way to the western shore. A gleam of sun through 

 the drift and a glance at my watch checked up my 

 points of compass and acted as a guard against a sudden 

 change of wind, a circumstance which has resulted 



