AND KAYAK 31 



ing and undressing their quaint little native 

 dollies. 



The children are not in the least afraid of the 

 dogs ; indeed it is quite the other way about, 

 for I have seen a tiny mite of a child go and 

 slap a great shaggy dog with his baby fists, 

 whereupon the fierce-looking brute got up and 

 went slinking away, howling and whining as 

 though some awful punishment had come 

 upon it. 



Bob, the Eskimo who led me to see the 

 sights when I first visited the village of Killinek 

 in the far north of Labrador, took me to see 

 his tent. He pointed along a winding stony 

 path, and trotted amiably in front of me. 

 &quot; My tent,&quot; he said, as he waved his hand to 

 wards a smoke-blackened tent among the 

 rocks. This was Bob s home : it was no more 

 than a bunch of poles with a calico cover 

 thrown over them ; the poles stuck out 

 through a hole in the top, and the cover was 

 kept in place by big stones laid upon its edge. 

 The ground was too rocky for tent-pegs, and 

 doubtless stones were the next best thing ; 

 but I thought with a shiver of the prob 

 able fate of the tent on some wild autumn 

 night. 



&quot; Does your tent never blow over ? &quot; I 

 said. 



