AND KAYAK 141 



and in the keen air of that autumn morning 

 I felt the cold as I had never felt it before. 



The winter that came afterwards was far 

 less biting ; for the autumn wind, blowing 

 over the freezing sea, nipped and chilled me 

 as nothing that I have ever known. It was 

 interesting enough to see the Eskimos trotting 

 down to the rocks where the shore-rope lay, 

 and where the float that marked the far end 

 of the net danced on the black water. I was 

 half frozen, stamping about to get warm ; 

 and they they cheerfully pulled the wet 

 ropes up, chewing at their pipes and chatting 

 merrily, and every now and again stopping 

 to wring the water out of their sodden gloves. 

 The cold did not seem to bite them : &quot; Unet &quot; 

 (what does it matter), they said, &quot; it is our 

 life : we are made for it &quot; ; and they pulled 

 their stiffening gloves on again to keep the 

 rope from chafing their hands. They got the 

 heavy seals out all stiff and dead, and piled 

 them in a sort of stockade to freeze, ready to 

 be fetched home during the winter. One was 

 partly eaten by sharks. &quot; Sharks no good at 

 all,&quot; they said ; &quot; eat the seals and break the 

 nets. Sometimes we catch him, but he is no 

 good except for dogs food, and his skin makes 

 fine sandpaper for smoothing the sled mnners.&quot; 



For a fortnight the hunters were busy with 

 their nets and their kayaks ; and then the 



