198 BY ESKIMO DOG-SLED 



down the slope of the hillside from the spring 

 in the swamps, an innocent, harmless little 

 brook. But when the winter snow is melting 

 in the month of June, then the little brook 

 becomes a roaring torrent ; and once I have 

 seen it burst its banks, and come thundering 

 down against the back wall of the hospital, 

 threatening to wash the building off its founda- 

 tion, and battering against the kitchen wall 

 until a gang of willing little Eskimos, armed 

 with hatchets and shovels and picks, managed 

 to dig a channel for it through the snowdrift 

 in another direction. 



So much for the brook. 



The other end of the hospital looks over 

 the village, and the sick folk love to lie there 

 gazing through the windows, watching the 

 sleds going to and fro, and the hunters 

 dragging seals up the hill, and the children 

 tumbling and romping in the snowdrifts. 

 They get better the quicker, as you may well 

 imagine, for the happiness of seeing all that 

 goes on. 



Downstairs is the big waiting-room where 

 the people have their morning prayers. Soon 

 after the building of the hospital I told the 

 people that I thought that it would be a good 

 idea to start each day's work with morning 

 prayers. The word I happened to use the 



