382 FOUR YEARS IN THE WHITE NORTH 



He made my stay at his home exceedingly pleasant and 

 agreeable, sharing his home with me as if I were a 

 member of his family. 



His house is a little three-room cottage, snug and 

 comfortable, but poorly ventilated. While I stayed 

 with him I slept in my sleeping-bag in his workshop, 

 where I could get all the fresh air I wanted. The cot- 

 tage is banked up with turf on all sides, so that the fierce 

 Arctic winds cannot get at it. 



He keeps a retinue of six servants — three men to 

 hunt for him and look after his dogs, and three women 

 to cook for him, brew his ale, care for his clothes and 

 children, and look after the house. 



To cook and brew satisfactorily for him is no light 

 task, and I often marveled at the patience and tact 

 that Pauletta, his little, rotund, moon-faced Eskimo 

 cook, displayed in the management of her master and 

 his household. From early morning until late at night 

 she was busy as could be. We had three regular meals 

 a day, besides luncheons innumerable. The luncheons 

 were almost invariably ale, black coffee, and raisin cake, 

 all good. Pauletta kept the coffee-pot boiling all day 

 long; three times a week, at least, sometimes oftener, 

 she baked rye bread and raisin cake; every two weeks 

 she brewed ale; besides, she cooked all the meals and 

 supervised all the activities of the household. She was 

 really highly efficient, and when the master of the house 

 took her to task for some minor neglect of her duty 

 I could not help feeling sorry for her. 



Her little kitchen was always crowded. The chil- 

 dren and many servants were ever in her way. When- 

 ever the hunters brought in seal, the animals were 

 thawed out and skinned, drawn and quartered, in the 



