80 THE NORTH POLE 



therefore asked George Borup to write for me an 

 account of walrus-hunting, as it appears to a novice, 

 and his story is so vivid that I give it to the reader in 

 his own words, graphic with the keen impressions 

 of a young man and picturesque with college slang. 

 He says: 



"Walrus-hunting is the best sport in the shooting 

 line that I know. There is something doing when you 

 tackle a herd of fifty-odd, weighing between one and 

 two tons each, that go for you whether wounded or not; 

 that can punch a hole through eight inches of young 

 ice; that try to climb into the boat to get at or upset 

 you, — we never could make out which, and didn't care, 

 as the result to us would have been the same, — or 

 else try to ram your boat and stave holes in it. 



"Get in a mix-up with a herd, when every man in 

 the whale-boat is standing by to repel boarders, hit- 

 ting them over the head with oars, boat-hooks, axes, 

 and yelling like a cheering section at a football game 

 to try to scare them off; with the rifles going like 

 young Gatling guns, and the walruses bellowing from 

 pain and anger, coming to the surface with mad rushes, 

 sending the water up in the air till you would think a 

 flock of geysers was turned loose in your immediate 

 vicinity — oh, it's great! 



"When we were walrus-hunting, the Roosevelt 

 would steam along, with all hands on the watch. 

 Then suddenly a keen-eyed Eskimo would sing out, 

 'Awick soah!' or, possibly, ' Awick tedicksoah ! ' (' Wal- 

 ruses! A great many walruses!') 



"We would look to see if there were enough of 

 the animals to make a raid worth while; then, if the 



