118 BY ESKIMO DOG-SLED 



Julius. On he trotted, right in the teeth of 

 the wind, with the dogs scampering close on 

 his heels. When for a while we skirted the 

 land he came back to the sled for a rest and 

 a smoke, but in the open he dived into the 

 storm again, and led the dogs on with tales 

 of seals and foxes and a house to rest in. 

 At last his words came true. &quot; Iglo, iglo r 

 (a house, a house), he yelled, and stood to let 

 the dogs race by. As he jumped on to the 

 sled he said, &quot; A house ; sleep here,&quot; and the 

 sled drew up with a bump and a rattle at the 

 door of one of the craziest shacks that it has 

 been my lot to see. The door was off its 

 hinges, if it ever had any, and the doorway 

 was choked with snow ; but we dug our way 

 in with hands and snow knives. There was 

 a rusty iron stove without a pipe, but we filled 

 it with damp twigs and lit it with a stump of 

 candle, and sat in the horrible reek. We were 

 warm, and we could dry our clothes, even if 

 we were choked. At first it was too awful for 

 me, and even the Eskimos grinned at it ; 

 but when we got the fire nice and hot, and 

 turned the back of the stove to the doorway, 

 the house began to feel comfortable ; and we 

 hung our wet boots from the rafters and sat 

 down to our toasted but rather frost-bitten 

 bread and mutton with quite a feeling of luxury. 



