426 HUNTING WITH THE ESKIMOS 



face. Other streams had found their way through 

 to wet my bed, until the tent offered little more pro- 

 tection from the rain than a sieve. 



The storm was raging with terrible fury. From 

 the tent door I could count seven large streams of 

 water rushing down the mountain-side. None of 

 these streams were flowing when camp was pitched. 

 Every few minutes a thunderous noise would startle 

 me, and tons upon tons of rocks would crash down 

 from the heights into the sea. I saw three landslides 

 moving down the mountain at one time, and only a 

 short distance apart. At the time we landed the har- 

 bor was almost clear of ice. Now it was jammed, 

 and the ice-pans grinding and crashing together be- 

 fore the force of the gale sent forth a deafening 

 noise. 



Leaving the tent, I ran down to the boat and found 

 the Eskimos huddled under it. I remained with 

 them for a little while, but the odor of their wet skin- 

 clothing was so horrible that finally I could stand it 

 no longer, and hurried back to the dripping tent. 

 The Eskimos had used all the fat they brought with 

 them for fire. The only oil remaining after the loss 

 of my canful was a little in the stove. This robbed 

 us of the only possible means of relieving our un- 

 comfortable situation, and with no way to get out 

 of the place there was nothing to do but make the best 

 of it. 



At the end of several hours the wind moderated 

 and, all of us soaking wet and shivering cold, we 

 launched the boat to work our way back to Etah 



