DOWN THE MACKENZIE x ^ x 



quickly raised a choppy and dangerous sea, and the extensive 

 mud flats inshore would have made a landing difficult. When 

 midway across, a bumblebee flew past my canoe, straight from 

 the north, toward the land, over two miles distant. 



As we approached the battures beyond the bay, we were 

 saluted by several rifle shots fired by two Eskimos, whose camp 

 was pitched on the beach, at the mouth of one of the channels. 

 They were living in a new wall tent, which they had obtained 

 from the whalers; several bags of flour, as much as some north- 

 ern posts receive for a year's allowance, piled under an over- 

 turned omiak, had also come from Herschel Island. A quan- 

 tity of fresh caribou meat and herringwas hanging on a scaffold 

 near by; the woman was kneeling before a wooden vessel of 

 native manufacture, that resembled a neatly-made peck meas- 

 ure, in which she was kneading dough. Such a display of 

 provision and the salute accorded us caused us to land, of 

 course. We were hospitably received by the head of the fam- 

 ily, a tall ferocious looking fellow, whose natural ugliness was 

 enhanced by the presence of a disc labret, as large as a silver 

 dollar, in his lower lip. 



The Indians conversed with the Eskimos in the trade jargon 

 of the coast, which included even Kanaka words in its vocabu- 

 lary. We learned that they had just come from Herschel 

 Island, where the "Yankee ships "had been left firmly frozen in. 



They were all dressed in caribou or sealskin garments. Their 

 well-made and serviceable clothing was markedly superior to 

 the tattered and inadequate dress of the Indians. Like many 

 other things invented by the Eskimo, his dress is superior to 

 any which the white man can give him. The woman wore an 

 artega, so broad at the shoulders that she could draw in her 

 arm without using the other hand to assist in the act. I was 

 puzzled at first sight of the empty sleeve, as I thought, surely, 

 she cannot be one-armed, but the mystery was explained as she 

 thrust out the arm again with two or three circling flops of the 

 sleeve, still keeping the other hand engaged with the kettles. 

 The short-skirted artega was at first scarcely distinguishable 

 from the frock worn by the two men, father and son, nor could 

 I have known their sex from their manner; the woman talked 

 with the air of an equal, instead of maintaining silence, or with 

 the slavish behavior of the Indian women in the presence of 



