104 BY ESKIMO DOG-SLED 



chippings I knew that a house must be near. 

 Sure enough the dogs stopped on the sheltered 

 side of a wooden house nearly buried in snow, 

 and one of the men shouted to me, &quot; Go in 

 John s house.&quot; I thumped the thick of the 

 snow off my shoulders and made for the porch, 

 which was, of course, full of dogs ; but when 

 I &quot; shooed &quot; them out of the way I was 

 astonished to find that they were all in their 

 harness. I pulled the seal-hide thong that 

 lifted the latch, and went into the house. 

 There sat John, clad in all his travelling furs, 

 with a dejected head bowed upon his hands. 

 He looked up in an apathetic sort of way, but 

 his look changed in an instant to one of utter 

 consternation. Then he jumped to his feet 

 and shouted for his daughter, and the two 

 of them stared, and wrung my hand, and asked 

 how ever I had managed to get there. My 

 side of the story was soon told, and then came 

 John s : one of his household had just met 

 with an accident, and he had harnessed his 

 team to go to Hebron, the nearest Mission 

 station, for help, when the storm came up and 

 drove him indoors. Between us we managed 

 to set things to rights, and all the even 

 ing John sat ruminating over the strange 

 happenings of the day ; and he put my 

 own thoughts into words when he said, 



