126 BY ESKIMO DOG-SLED 



his mind for the well-worn tool. When it was 

 sharp enough, he chose a nice piece of fire 

 wood from a pile at his feet and began to 

 whittle shavings, looking up with his usual 

 grin to repeat his joke &quot; Me cook, eh ? 



When the pile of shavings had grown large 

 enough to earn a contemplative nod of satis 

 faction, he betook himself to his heap of 

 stones. He cleared a space on the wet floor 

 of the boat, and laid a big flat stone upon it, 

 then he built a wall of smaller stones around it, 

 and filled up the hollow with shavings and 

 wood. Then he knelt down and struck a 

 match, and carefully lit his fire, poking and 

 puffing at it to make it burn. In a few minutes 

 a trail of smoke was streaming away into the 

 air behind us, and Daniel came to the trium 

 phant climax of his joke. 



&quot; Pujolik, pujolik &quot; (a steamer), he yelled. 



The two men chattering in the bows jumped 

 up with a start ; the steersman awoke from 

 his apathy and gazed about him ; even the 

 man sprawling across the oar roused himself 

 and raised his sleepy eyes ; and Daniel roared 

 with glee at the success of his little plot. 

 &quot; Pujolik,&quot; he shouted, pointing to the smoke, 

 and we all entered into the spirit of the thing 

 and laughed boisterously. 



Soon the sleepy head dropped again ; the 



