202 BY ESKIMO DOG-SLED 



good solid Eskimos were seated on each of 

 them, the benches were well laden, and I used 

 to feel some apprehension as I watched the 

 people edging closer and closer together to 

 make room for " just one more." I felt sure 

 that the last straw would be reached some 

 day, but the people always said, " Nama- 

 tuinarput " (they are quite all right) when I 

 expressed my fears. But the last straw came 

 and a very substantial last straw it was 

 in the person of big Tabea. She came in 

 rather late one morning and stood looking 

 round for a place with all the dignity and 

 consequence of the prosperous middle-aged 

 Eskimo matron. There were no empty seats, 

 but a comfortable-looking party of village 

 worthies made room or an apology for room 

 for her in the middle of their well-filled 

 bench. Tabea sat down ponderously and with 

 deliberation ; there was an ominous creaking 

 and the bench collapsed with a clatter, heaping 

 its occupants into a wild scrimmage on the 

 floor. I could hardly keep my face straight 

 when I saw them shove the broken bench aside 

 and compose themselves upon the floor as 

 gravely as you please. 



If all this had happened out of doors they 

 would have laughed, I have no doubt ; but 

 this was meeting-time, when folks do not 



