36 BY ESKIMO DOG-SLED 



bed, kneading one of her husband's boots. 

 She looked up as we appeared, with a good- 

 humoured smile on her handsome, ruddy face, 

 and quietly went on with her kneading. Other 

 boots, turned inside out to dry, hung from the 

 poles above her head ; they were waiting to be 

 rubbed. That is one of the things that an 

 Eskimo hunter expects of his wife : she must 

 keep his boots soft. In he comes from his 

 latest chase after seals or walrus or bears : he 

 is wet and tired and sleepy : soon he is sprawl- 

 ing on the platform bed, snoring great snores, 

 while his wife is turning his wet boots inside 

 out, to make them dry and supple for his next 

 expedition. A good Eskimo housewife always 

 takes a pride in her husband's boots. And 

 Bob's wife reached for another boot, and went 

 on with her kneading. 



Close beside her, on an upturned tub, stood 

 the seal-oil lamp. It was no more than a half- 

 moon-shaped trough, hollowed from a soft 

 stone, and half filled with thick brown seal-oil. 

 A flat wick of moss leaned on the edge of the 

 trough, dipping into the oil, and burning with 

 a steady flame. Mrs. Bob seemed to be doing 

 a little cookery, between whiles, over her primi- 

 tive lamp. A battered meat -tin, a castaway, 

 no doubt, from the Mission ship, hung by a 

 string from one of the tent-poles, and twisted, 



