THE WALRUS 145 



but the Captain, busy with the harpoon line, 

 affirmed that it still lived. I therefore 

 recharged my rifle and fired. As though to 

 confirm the Captain's words, the walrus writhed 

 a little, and finally slid into the sea on the farther 

 side of the splinter. After that it moved no 

 more, but remained floating in the middle of a 

 lake of blood. 



In order to facilitate the skinning, we towed 

 it to a second floe slightly larger than the one 

 it had occupied. To hoist it on to the ice, 

 however, necessitated the use of some of the 

 ship's tackle, for which I accordingly despatched 

 the boat. 



Eight men, with running gear, found it no 

 easy matter to draw that enormous mass of 

 flesh on to the ice. A rope was made fast to its 

 head, a second to its anterior fins. One of the 

 ropes was anchored to the ice and the other was 

 passed through a pulley. In this way, and 

 after much exertion, the carcass was landed. 

 The animal proved to be much larger than 

 those I had shot four years earlier, but, un- 

 fortunately, it possessed only one tusk. The 

 other had probably been lost long years 

 before in the course of one of those terrible 

 fights which old male walruses wage among 

 themselves. An enormous cicatrice in its 



