202 TWO DIANAS IN ALASKA 



cramp in our limbs, a natural result from the awkward 

 position a bidarka mariner must take up. The same 

 little sinister Innuit paddled my craft daily, and at 

 first I thought he was the ugliest living creature I 

 had ever come across, but after glueing my eyes for 

 days to the nape of his short neck, ringed round with 

 creases, and catching a glimpse of his countenance 

 as he half turned to the paddle, I got so used to this 

 vision of hideousness that almost he seemed to climb 

 to a pinnacle of ugliness, and tumble over to a Look- 

 ing-Glass topsy-turvy world which returned him 

 revivified and passable. Have you ever noticed that 

 queer-looking people are like ugly photographs they 

 grow on one? At first you think "Dear me, I 

 cannot bear this caricature near me." Next you get 

 to, "It is really not so bad, after all," and, lastly, 

 a sort of pleasant toleration comes. 



Sometimes a great log came rolling by, continuing 

 its weary journey from the heart of Alaska to the 

 sea. Our men would dash after the treasure-trove, 

 lasso it, broncho fashion, and haul the baulk ashore. 

 A big fire would follow, and much drying of camp 

 kit, indiscriminate roasting of fish, flesh, and fowl 

 also. Not often flesh, just occasionally. I bagged 

 a small black bear one night as he feasted upon 

 berries, his jaws dyed red in the juices of the fruit. 

 His paws were stuck full of porcupine quills, a 

 prickly hint of sorts for Bruin evidently. The men 

 feasted merrily on this addition to their rations. We 

 kept to the birds of the air. Bear meat is really only 

 possible when one is next door to starving. 



