THE AUTUMN WORK 137 



the driver will yell, "How-ooooooo" with an accom- 

 paniment of other words in Eskimo and English which 

 shall be left to the imagination of the reader. The 

 temperature of a new man trying to drive a team of 

 Eskimo dogs is apt to be pretty high. One is almost 

 inclined to believe with the Eskimos that demons 

 take possession of these animals. Sometimes they 

 seem to be quite crazy. A favorite trick of theirs is 

 to leap over and under and around each other, getting 

 their traces in a snarl beside which the Gordian knot 

 would be as nothing. Then, in a temperature anywhere 

 between zero and 60° below, the driver has to remove 

 his heavy mittens and disentangle the traces with his 

 bare hands, while the dogs leap and snap and bark 

 and seem to mock him. And this brings me to an 

 incident which practically always happens when a 

 new man starts out to drive Eskimo dogs. 



A member of the expedition — I, who have also 

 suffered, will not give his name away — started out 

 with his dog team. Some hours later shouts and hila- 

 rious laughter were heard from the Eskimos. It was 

 not necessary to inquire what had happened. The 

 dog team had returned to the ship — without the sledge. 

 The new dog driver, in attempting to unsnarl the 

 traces of his dogs, had let them get away from him. 

 Another hour or two went by, and the man himself 

 returned, crestfallen and angry clear through. He 

 was greeted by the derisive shouts of the Eskimos, 

 whose respect for the white man is based primarily 

 on the white man's skill in the Eskimo's own field. 

 The man gathered up his dogs again and went back 

 for the sledge. 



