AND KAYAK 51 



has no roads, but that is the way with northern 

 Labrador. You may see a tiny path in the 

 summer-time, winding away among the rocks 

 or along the edge of the seashore, and if you 

 follow it you are sure to come to somebody s 

 tent : the people who live there have worn 

 the path by their trampings to and fro 

 between their tent and the store-house. But 

 if you want to know the way to the next 

 village, sixty miles away in the north, the 

 Eskimo will scratch his head and look at 

 you, and tell you if it be summer-time that 

 he has a very good boat and will take you 

 gladly if you will only give him time to get 

 some food for the journey ; if it be winter 

 time he will offer you the use of his sled and 

 dogs, and will grin with delight at the thought 

 of coming with you as your driver. For that 

 is the only road that he knows anything 

 about ; the sea, tossing and stormy in the 

 summer, frozen and still and covered with 

 drifts of snow in the winter. I was almost 

 saying that wheels were unknown to the 

 Eskimos, for even the children of the mis 

 sionaries are pushed about in perambulators 

 on sled-runners, but I was forgetting. I know 

 myself that there were two things with wheels 

 in our village. One was the truck that the men 

 used for dragging the heavy boxes along the 



