160 BY ESKIMO DOG-SLED 



It sometimes happens that the Eskimo 

 catches a Tartar in his fox trap, if the smell 

 of the putrid bait of rank and rotten seal meat 

 chances to attract a wandering wolverine. 

 The powerful brute, finding itself fast, marches 

 off with the trap, snarling and grumbling at 

 the pain ; and before the hunter can add it 

 to his bag he has a weary trail through the 

 woods, up and down, to and fro, following 

 the blood-stained line of the trailing trap, and 

 at the end of it all he has to face a sharp 

 encounter with one of the most dangerous 

 things a man can meet, a mad and furious 

 wolverine. He is probably thankful to shoot 

 the beast before it does him an injury if he 

 has a gun with him. 



As a matter of fact, the men seldom go to 

 their traps without their guns. It is not that 

 they have danger or big game in their minds, 

 but because there is always a chance of 

 meeting a partridge (rock ptarmigan) on 

 the road, and a partridge, eaten raw and 

 warm, is a real delicacy to Eskimo ways of 

 thinking. 



There is bigger game for those who seek it ; 

 I have heard the scufflings of a wolf among the 

 dogs when we camped in a snow hut on the 

 mountain pass, and I have known the drivers 

 stop the sled among the stunted trees on some 



