166 BY ESKIMO DOG-SLED 



in the night. In the morning each man boils 

 his own tea and munches his own solitary feed 

 of dried meat or ship's biscuit, harnesses his 

 team, and drives on alone. Alone he travels 

 where his fancy leads him : he will find the 

 deer. Solitude has no terrors for the Eskimo ; 

 it wakens his best instincts ; it matters not 

 that he meets nobody, sees nobody ; alone 

 he finds his way to the hunt and back again, 

 trusting to his marvellous memory for land- 

 marks, and guided by the stars and the sun- 

 rise. 



It was a bleak, raw morning when I first 

 saw the reindeer hunters start : they had their 

 skin clothes tied round with scarves to keep 

 the wind out, and they had their heads down 

 as they faced the bleak gusts. Before ten 

 o'clock a hurricane was raging, and I feared 

 for the safety of the men. But they came 

 back, with the storm roaring behind them ; 

 first Jerry, then Abia, then others in twos 

 and threes, all with the same tale " Ajornar- 

 pok (it is impossible), we must start to- 

 morrow." " Are you all safe ? " I asked them ; 

 and Jerry counted them over on his fingers. 

 " Yes," he said, " we are all here : all except 

 Johannes." " And Johannes, where is he ? " 

 " Atsuk " the laconic answer, so characteristic 

 of the Eskimo" I don't know." But I was 



