ALONG THE GREENLAND COAST 159 



the ever-present nightmare of more open water; the 

 incessant gnawing under the belt; the bruised and 

 aching feet; the burning eyes and face; the growing 

 weakness; the tantahsing mouthfuls of hare since we 

 reached the land, and always this hope and picture 

 before me, waking or sleeping — a herd of musk-oxen 

 that should once more permit us to eat our fill. Here 

 it was, now to business. I dropped my mittens, 

 threw a cartridge into the barrel of my carbine, and 

 advanced toward the herd. Faithful Ahngmalokto 

 cried out — "Don't go so near, Peary," but this puny 

 herd of musk-oxen was a trifle compared with the lead 

 whose black embrace we had all faced, and I stepped 

 between the gray dog and the bull. Crack! a tiny 

 tuft of hair flew out from just back of the bull's fore- 

 shoulder and he had something beside the gray dog 

 to think of, though he did not go down. My bullet 

 had missed his heart and gone through his lungs. 

 Crack! the other bull made a jump forward, stopped, 

 staggered a step or two backward, then lurched over 

 on his side. My aim was better. Crack! Crack! 

 the two old cows followed suit. Crack! the younger 

 cow went the same way. The two yearlings were 

 standing side by side close together, rigid with fright. 

 Two or three steps to one side brought their fore shoul- 

 ders in line; crack! the one bullet went through both 

 their hearts and "pinged" on a rock beyond, as one 

 fell on the other. I was one cartridge to the good and 

 this I gave to the big bull as an act of mercy to put 

 him out of his misery, standing there with braced feet, 

 and blood-clogged nostrils, struggling for breath. I 

 could not help thinking, as he went down, that it was a 



