THE AUTUMN WORK 139 



following day, and then return to the ship. That gave 

 them one night in the field. 



A man's first night in a canvas tent in the Arctic 

 is likely to be rather wakeful. The ice makes mysteri- 

 ous noises; the dogs bark and fight outside the tent 

 where they are tethered; and as three Eskimos and 

 one white man usually occupy a small tent, and the 

 oil-stove is left burning all night, the air, notwithstand- 

 ing the cold, is not over-pure; and sometimes the Eski- 

 mos begin chanting to the spirits of their ancestors 

 in the middle of the night, which is, to say the least, 

 trying. Sometimes, too, the new man's nerves are 

 tried by hearing wolves howl in the distance. 



The tents are specially made. They are of light- 

 weight canvas, and the floor of the tent is sewed 

 directly into it. The fly is sewed up, a circular open- 

 ing cut in it, just large enough to admit a man, and 

 that opening fitted with a circular flap which is closed 

 by a draw-string, making the tent absolutely snow- 

 proof. An ordinary tent, when the snow is flying, 

 would be filled in no time. 



The tent is pyramidal, with one pole in the center, 

 and the edges are usually held down by the sledge 

 runners or by snowshoes used as tent pegs. The men 

 sleep on the floor in their clothes, with a musk-ox 

 skin under, and a light deerskin over them. I have 

 not used sleeping bags since my arctic trip of 1891-92. 



The "kitchen box" for our sledge journeys is 

 simply a wooden box containing two double-burner 

 oil-stoves, with four-inch wicks. The two cooking 

 pots are the bottoms of five-gallon coal-oil tins, fitted 

 with covers. When packed they are turned bottom 



