AND KAYAK 99 



their cronies all about the broken runner and 

 the beautiful plank. 



Soon I saw them at their task again, fetch- 

 ing a tree, sawing two fine new runners out 

 of the heart of it, shaping and smoothing and 

 boring and binding, until they had a new sled 

 ready for me and were looking forward to the 

 next journey. 



There was one man to whom those journeys 

 must have been a Godsend, and that was my 

 friend John. He lived in a wooden house on 

 the shore of a big bay twenty miles from the 

 nearest village, and he managed, by dint of 

 sheer hard work, to catch enough seals and 

 codfish to keep himself and his household in 

 clothes and food. And once or twice in every 

 winter I used to turn my sled towards the 

 mouth of John's bay and you should have 

 seen the dogs prick up their ears when they 

 came upon sled tracks in the snow, and smelt 

 the smell of a house, when, poor brutes, they 

 thought that they had another twenty miles 

 to run before they dared think of shelter and 

 rest and food. But so it was : once or twice 

 in every winter we raced up the slope to 

 John's house and shook him by the hand, 

 and heard the cheery sound of his wife's voice 

 saying, " Come in, come in and warm your- 

 selves : we saw you coming across the bay, 



